A/N: A few of you have requested a multi-chapter fic from me for Rolivia, so I thought I'd maybe give it a shot. This is the first chapter, and so far my intention is to write a mixture of elaborations on existing scenes/missing scenes and original scenes that span from Scorched Earth to around Beast's Obsession. If you're reading this first chapter, keep in mind that it's not intended to flow as smoothly as my other works, as it jumps from episode to episode. Hopefully you still find it enjoyable, despite the change in the format. Expect a slow burn, and notes of Bensler, Cabenson, and Liv/Hayden as it goes on. Ultimately, however, Rolivia will be the prevailing ship. Please read and review!
Rating Chapter One: T for language and mature themes.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Dick Wolf, not myself. Excerpts from existing episodes used without permission. No profit is being made.
Spoilers: Scorched Earth, Double Strands, Educated Guess, Loss/Ghost, Theatre Tricks, Official Story
Equinox
I: Water So Deep
Autumn had commenced in a downward spiral, and Olivia Benson's year at NYPD's Special Victims Unit was rapidly becoming unlucky number thirteen. Tucker and IAB were giving Elliot hell over the shooting of Jenna Fox, and Elliot was freezing Liv out in the middle of the chaos.
The squad room felt foreign without her long-time partner, as if Elliot's absence was a fog that hung over her desk, and his – still covered in his photos, and paperwork. She felt ambivalent, floating from place to place. Liv had been around through plenty of Elliot Stabler's darkest hours, his mandatory leaves. But this felt different, and she was unbalanced.
The next thing Olivia knew, a new detective showed up. Captain Cragen had mentioned in passing that he'd recruited someone out of the South, but so much had gone on, it seemed like the information had come and gone a year ago. Consequently, when the younger blonde finally approached her, Liv was deep in her own head.
The young, lean blonde was full to the brim with reasons for leaving Atlanta, Georgia behind. She would never say, but moving to the big city had made her nervous. When the nights drew out too long, just before the move, she had distracted herself by reading the detective profiles for the Manhattan SVU unit, on the online cop portal.
There, Rollins had seen a photo of the detective she had somewhat been idolizing for the past few years. Olivia Benson was a 13-year veteran of SVU, and an amazing detective. The profile photo was probably a few years old, but the woman's dark, guarded eyes and professional expression told Amanda a lot.
She hadn't hesitated to swoop into action on her first day, but as she had expected, breaking into a close-knit elite department wasn't going to be easy. Amanda was hip-deep into the day before she finally decided to muster her nerve to meet Benson in person.
Rollins wiped her clammy palms against her black dress pants and took a deep breath for the third time in less than as many minutes. She swallowed against the acrid taste of nerves at the back of her throat.
Goddamn coward, she chastised herself. You're a fangirl-ing fool. Buck up, blondie. She took a look at Olivia, crossing the precinct floor like she owned it, and it made her hesitate again.
You're a goddamn SVU detective, just like she is, Rollins! the voice in her head shouted. Go! She went. "Detective Benson? Hi. Amanda Rollins." She stuck out her hand - stiff, like a girl scout. Immediately, she felt ridiculous.
Benson furrowed her brows, scrutinizing in an offhand manner. "Ah, transfer from Dallas, right?"
"Yeah – well, Atlanta," she corrected. She rushed ahead: "You like Distasio for this?" There ya go, the voice said, stay cool . . . talk about the case.
Non-committal, Liv answered, "Uh . . . he was there."
"Well, I just – I-I just wanted to let you know I'm really happy to be here." Oh Jesus Christ, she groaned. "I, um, I've studied a lot of your cases. I used some of the stuff you did on the Brown case – the, the infant homicide." Rollins could feel her ears burning. Jesus, she thought, what's wrong with you?
"Yeah. Yeah, I haven't briefed the captain yet, so . . . "
"Sure." Yeah, I would wanna escape, too.
"Thank you."
She watched Benson continue to Cragen's office, annoyed by the rush of her own pulse. The older woman was even more elegant and impressive than the photo on her detective profile page had conveyed, and Amanda bit her lip. Way to go, hotshot. It had been a long time since this particular brand of nervous energy had set up residence in the neglected corners of herself. Forcing herself to turn away from the doorway of Cragen's office, the blonde newbie let go a shaky breath and stuffed her hands into her pockets as the sounds of the bullpen came rushing back into awareness.
Watch yourself, 'Manda, the voice warned, don't get any ideas.
/ / /
Olivia let out a breath and resisted the urge to knock her beer bottle angrily to the floor. Just hearing El's voice on his voicemail was painful as hell. She finished leaving her pathetic message – not the first, or even the second – just as Fin got to the bar. "Hey, so - how'd the hand-off go?" she asked him.
"Some house arrest. This cat's got a screening room."
Olivia noticed Amanda Rollins' presence with the crew at the bar, and bristled. It was too soon - it felt like an intrusion. She eyed the trim younger woman, still curious at her over-eagerness and hero-worship from her earlier display. She looked young . . . athletic, Liv inventoried, her eyes taking a quick snap over the newbie's form. The blonde was unnervingly beautiful, but it was unclear if she knew it. "So what's her story? She must have some hooks to be transferred here from Atlanta."
"She's cool," Fin said, without following Liv's gaze.
"Talked to Elliot?" It felt and sounded akin to pleading, and Liv felt disgusted, but desperate.
"Nah."
Alex Cabot came breezing into the bar, comfortable wherever she went, as always. "Good news. The DNA came back. It's a match for Distasio and the victim."
Olivia smiled against her beer bottle before taking a swig. It was good to have Cabot back. In more ways than one. It took the edge off of Elliot's silence, made things seem a bit more like old times.
"Well, that puts him in the room," Munch chimed in. "What is he gonna do now, plead consent?"
"Oh, yeah, he will," Amanda said firmly. "In his world, sex is power. To him it was all just a dance. So whatever happened in that room, he doesn't see it as rape."
"Elliot's probably afraid to talk to you, Liv," Fin said carefully, interrupting her suspicious glare at Rollins. "Doesn't want you to try to talk him out of it."
Liv blinked. "Out of what? He's not gonna quit."
"He shot a teenage girl. He may not ever wanna put his gun on again."
Just hearing her fear actualized in Fin's easy, no-bullshit way made her stomach bottom out. It wasn't a thought that she'd allowed take up much space inside her head. El had been her partner for more than a decade. That, and . . . well, other things that Liv was still too scared to face. His not coming back was an outcome too anxiety-inducing and painful to bear. She hadn't talked about it – not really – with anyone. Liv blinked back tears, fighting to think what to say.
"You invite your boss for a drink?" Munch piped up, as Mike Cutter strode into the bar brandishing a copy of the Ledger at Alexandra.
"Hey, Mike, what's up?" Alex asked.
"Thought you vetted your witness." Disgusted, Cutter dropped the paper onto Liv's table. "She's in it for the money."
"Not a chance." Alex balked.
"That's the ledger. They'll print anything to sell papers," Fin said, with a glance at the headline.
"They got her on tape," Cutter divulged.
Liv sat up a little straighter, shocked. "What? Who?"
"Another maid at the hotel just sold Miriam out," he replied, his tone low and vexed.
The squad dispersed rather quickly after the blow, knowing that the next day would start early for all of them – which it did. Liv's rusty Italian was put to the test making multiple phone calls. It was three-coffees-o'clock when she found herself half-listening to Rollins speak to the captain. Olivia sat up and came alive, impressed by the newbie's diligent probing.
Liv picked up the phone to get in touch with Alex, to keep her in the loop. On the first ring, she noticed Amanda looking her way. "Good work, Rollins," she said – and surprisingly, meant it.
Across the desks, the blonde smiled and nodded. She took a deep breath that she hoped hid her ridiculous pleasure: the blush creeping up her face, and the excited tremble of her hands.
/ / /
Liv . . . I'm sorry.
Cragen's words reverberated inside her head as she closed the door to the interrogation room she'd ducked into. I can't fucking breathe, she thought, oh God –
I'm sorry.
Olivia doubled over with the force of the pain in her chest and began to sob. Her stomach heaved, and she swallowed hard. Get it together, Benson, she barked at herself, you gotta work! But the tears burned hot trails down her face, as she shook with the shock, with betrayal. With heartbreak.
Jesus, Elliot, she thought. Why? It was a convenient cover-up for the real question – how could you leave me – that even her inner voice wouldn't cry out. She had told Fin they would roll in five minutes, so she dug down deep and expertly ignored her pain. Liv stood up, squaring her shoulders, and took a deep breath. With a last sniff, and a hand scrubbed across her face, she reached for the door handle.
Liv . . . I'm sorry.
She tried to imagine the words in El's voice, but couldn't. Olivia would have to be sorry another day.
/ / /
The nights were only barely beginning to get chilly when the Dani Hynes case started. Rollins had been paired with Benson to cover the scene and get the victim's statement. Compared to the South, Amanda thought New York was going to be downright chilly.
"My friends wanted me to stay for another drink . . . but I have a rehearsal in the morning. I should have just smiled when he asked," Dani whimpered.
"You did everything right. You survived," Liv soothed. "Danielle, have you ever seen this man before?"
"No. But he knew all about me."
A short distance away, Rollins spoke: "There are bike tracks. Get the cement."
"Wow, he really got you good, huh?" Liv commented, eyeing the young woman's facial abrasions with concern.
"He was wearing latex gloves."
"Did he have any distinguishing marks on him, a tattoo, anything like that?"
"I saw one on his neck," Danielle nodded, "a Tai Chi thing."
"A Tai Chi thing?" Rollins interrupted on her way by, "can you describe that?"
"Half black, half white, in a circle," the victim stammered.
"The Yin-Yang?" Amanda pushed.
"Yeah. Sorry."
"Did he say anything to you during the incident?" Amanda continued, her questions rapid-fire. She was unaware of Olivia, glaring with disapproval.
"He said, 'Tell me you love me, mommy.'"
Excited now, Rollins stepped even closer to the victim and Liv. "Those exact words? You're sure? Did you notice how he got away?"
"On a bike."
"Danielle, will you excuse us for one second, okay?" Liv cut in, "Detective, can I have a word with you?" She eyed Amanda with raw displeasure and pulled her aside. "Uh, I don't know how you do things down South, but here, in New York, we think it's best if one person does the intake as to not overwhelm the victim."
"Okay, look, I know this may sound crazy, but I think I know this guy. I recognize his M.O."
"Recognize him? From where? You just got here." There was no effort whatsoever to hide her rebuff. It had been a few weeks since the news about Elliot, and it was slowly draining Liv's ability to be pleasant. The newbie charm was wearing off, and Liv was making sure Rollins knew it.
"We were tracking a serial rapist in Georgia. It's the same signature, okay. Olivia, it's the same signature: the way he stalks, the tattoo – "
"Rollins, with all due respect, the city is filled with rapists with the same M.O."
"'Tell me you love me, mommy'? I mean, he said the exact same thing, our perp."
"I understand that. It's still a stretch."
Rollins' icy blues became defiant in the glare of ambulance lights, surprising the older woman for the first time. "Could be," she said, mustering all of her Southern manners. "Could be he's here."
The two women stared each other down momentarily, before Liv wordlessly went back to the victim alone.
/ / /
"You want me to talk, I will talk. To her. The blonde." Brian Smith was jumpy with energy, but still cocky, for the time being – thinking he could just talk his way out of the whole thing
"That's not gonna happen," Fin said flatly.
"Oh. Okay, then. Lawyer," Brian retorted.
"Well, he said the magic word," Fin said, rejoining the squad outside interrogation with Munch. "We got enough to get him without it?"
"The wire went in and out in the tunnel. Amaro may have used excessive force. Rollins ran out of his view . . . " Casey itemized.
"It was the only way to – " Amanda started.
"The defense will paint this as two new detectives trying to make a name for themselves. And there's still reasonable doubt on everything because of his twin," Casey argued.
"So, if he doesn't talk to the blonde, he walks?" Liv commented, confounded. "Captain, we need a statement."
Rollins was more than just surprised; Olivia had already argued once that Brian was her collar. Not just that – Amanda had been getting the impression that she would never be getting into the brunette's good graces. This support from left-field was putting Amanda on edge, suspicious that Liv might set her up to fail.
Novak let out a sigh and Cragen relented, giving Amanda a short nod. She paused, then pulled her hair up into a quick, messy ponytail and stepped to the interrogation room door. Her heart hammered wildly, comprised of confidence, adrenaline, and the need to impress.
Impress who? Olivia? The captain? The ADA? The blonde honestly didn't know as she stepped into the room. "Heard you wanted to see me." She eyed Brian Smith coquettishly.
"Oh, you look so much prettier when you smile," Brian grinned, smitten.
"So do you. You know, I've actually been, um, been wanting to talk to you for a long time."
"Oh, is that right?"
"I'm a Southern girl; I worked sex crimes in Atlanta. I'm actually the one that named you. I've been obsessed with you a little bit, to tell you the truth. I always thought I was your type."
"Mm-hmm. Down to a T," Brian leered.
Rollins turned to the two-way mirror, smiling triumphantly at those on the other side – mostly for Nick, the new-newbie who kept giving her grief. "A hell of a ride, Brian - you were the best. I'll give you that."
Slamming the table, he got to his feet. "I am the best! You and me in the - in the park, that was another thing. You were . . oh, all cute and bouncy. You teased me," Brian scolded.
"Just like all the other girls."
"What other girls?" He paused, without intending to keep up the ruse of being quite that stupid – or assuming Rollins was. "Oh, that was my brother . . . yeah. It's the same DNA."
"So that was the plan all along. Just leave enough of your DNA so we can pin it on your brother. And you even made sure to get the tattoo just like him. It's... it's genius," Amanda praised.
"You said that, not - not me!" he protested, looking past her, at the two-way as she had.
"Couple'a holes, though," Rollins went on.
Liv watched from outside the room as Amanda switched gears and found herself pleased. Absorbed in the performance, she couldn't take her eyes off of the drawling blonde. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have another female detective in the unit, she considered. It would be the first time since, what – 2000? Unless anyone wanted to count Jo Marlow's short term assignment a couple of years ago.
Christ, what is it with me and blonde women? Olivia mused.
"Can you lift up your shirt?" Amanda asked Brian. Goosebumps broke out down Olivia's forearms at the phrase.
"What?"
"Lift up your shirt for me, baby. I wanna show you something," she insisted.
Liv caught her breath at Amanda's inflection, and her pulse quickened. She chided herself, blaming it on the strangeness of the case.
Brian chuckled, nervously. "Hey, it's your party."
"See, that's some scar. Your twin brother doesn't have that scar. Doesn't have a chipped tooth either. We have victims that saw both."
"Is that the best that you got? I mean, it was dark. Witnesses make mistakes all the time. You know that." His nerves were getting the best of him now, and they both knew it.
"What about that Halloween rape? 2003. Did your brother do that one?" She pressed him harder, her voice more accusing.
"I don't know. He – he could've."
"Did you know his wife had a miscarriage that weekend? Doctors and nurses all claim that he never left her side."
"There is always a back door." His eyes gave away how rattled he really was, and Rollins had to tamp her excitement in response.
"He was 100 miles away, Brian." She eyed him, severe. "Sit down. 'Cause you, you made another mistake: you lost your screwdriver that night, in the dark."
Outside the mirror, Olivia nibbled at the inside of her cheek, still watching. She was undeniably turned on, now, and a bit pissed at herself for it.
"You left a fingerprint. It's sloppy work, you know, for you. That one, it's gonna cost you big time. 'Cause twins have the same DNA, but different fingerprints. But you knew that. Right? That's why you started wearing the gloves."
Amanda closed the distance between them, leaning against the edge of the table. Outside, she couldn't know that Olivia's eyes raked over the shape of her back in her pale pink blouse, and her ass in her work pants. Softening her voice again, another gear shift: "Brian. I know. You had to teach yourself everything. Not your brother, not Gabriel. Gabriel got to go to school, got to go to college. He's got a great life. I mean, you've seen his wife, his cute son. You followed him all these years, and you never . . . never said hello."
"You don't know anything about me," he scoffed.
"Yeah? We met your mother - your real mother - at the halfway house. And she told us that you came and found her. You know what she said? 'I gave him up once. You would think he'd take the hint the first time.' And that must have hurt."
"She's a drunk whore. Who cares?" he lied.
"You do. Especially since you know what good care she took of your twin. She took such good care of your brother. She told us that she made sure he found a good home. She made sure to send birthday cards . . . "
"Nah, I had good parents," Brian shrugged.
"Your mother killed your father in front of you, Brian. That's horrible. Nobody should have to go through that," she countered.
"Nah, it didn't break me."
"No? I disagree. Your own mother gave you up. Your second mother, she's a nightmare. Brian, it's okay. Anybody would be broken. No one's ever really listened to you, have they?" He refused to look at her. "I want to hear your whole story. Not just these . . . mistakes. Everything. I've got all night, and I'm not leavin' you. Look at me. Look at my face."
It took great effort, but the serial rapist finally managed to meet Rollins' gaze. In the hallway, Liv felt her centre grow noticeably wet, and didn't tear her gaze from Amanda until Cragen spoke, telling her and Amaro to release Gabriel from holding.
/ / /
The Gia Eskas case was a nightmare, not just literally, but bureaucratically as well. Rollins accompanied Liv when they returned to speak to Gia about Charles Lee's statement. She wasn't surprised when the reaction was complete denial.
"He's lying. It didn't happen. Nothing happened," Gia protested.
"We took his pants from his locker. They're running the DNA right now," Rollins told her, running out of patience for Gia's runaround.
"Gia, we know that you're angry and afraid, but a gun? That's not the answer," Liv advised.
"Says the woman who carries one on her hip," Gia scoffed.
"Yeah, and bad things have happened to me," Olivia confessed. "I've been stabbed. I've been assaulted. And my gun didn't save me."
Behind her, Amanda startled at the word assaulted. Her throat ran dry, and she glanced sidelong at the seasoned detective with shock and sadness. The world was both disappointing and predictable when a woman as strong and self-made as Olivia Benson had assault in common with a fresh-faced Southern hopeful.
Rollins waited in the corridor a bit later, while Olivia finished up. "This is going to be an uphill battle," was what the older woman sighed when she arrived.
"That's why we do it." Amanda felt shy and small leaning on the wall, like it was her first day on the job all over again. Not for the first – or last – time, her heart pounded as she spoke: "You told Gia that you were assaulted?" she said, then held her breath.
"Yeah." Liv didn't elaborate, and Amanda felt stupid for thinking the woman would. That woman was like a bank vault, and Amanda had no reason to believe she would ever solve the door's combination.
"Something happened to me on the job. It was part of the reason why I had to leave." She hoped it came out as casual as she wanted it to seem. It was the first time she had uttered the truth of it to anyone.
Liv tipped her head. "Somebody you worked with?"
Amanda shrugged. "Something not worth pursuing."
"That's how they win," Liv replied, causing a bolt of guilt to crackle over Rollins' nerves, feeling like she was a fraud in the wrong department. "We're not gonna let that happen to Gia."
/ / /
By the time the weather was growing colder, things had mellowed into a perfunctory routine. Rollins and Fin had partnered up, becoming very good together. Amanda was tickled by his sense of humor, and the fact that they were an unlikely mix of backgrounds. Liv, on the other hand, found working with Amaro somewhat of a rollercoaster. Like Elliot, Nick had a temper. But unlike Elliot, Nick's temper wasn't as predictable, or aimed at perps 90% of the time. His temper flitted and pitched, like birds on a wire, landing here on Rollins and there on Mike Cutter. Some days, Liv was grateful for that kind of male energy to work with again – other days, Elliot's absence still hurt like hell.
On those days, Alex Cabot's company had proven to be more important than ever. Not a soul, inside their lines of work or out, knew that the two women had been on-and-off lovers over the years. At the times Elliot had been unreachable emotionally, or when the loneliness was too much, they had come together almost curiously – mutually wondering if they could cover the other's wounds.
A serious relationship had only ever been a consideration once. Before the Zapata case, when they'd been years younger, and more innocent. But the split necessitated by Witness Protection had brought Alex her own, different loneliness, and she began a life that didn't include Liv. There was also the shadow of Elliot, hanging over every romantic move Olivia considered. She had mastered holding her lovers at arms length in order to leave room for what she felt for him.
This time, Elliot was gone. For good, she had to keep reminding herself. To Liv's surprise, Alex hadn't hesitated to be there for her, despite any past jealousies. She had held Liv through the worst of her heartbreak, and when the storm finally began to clear, they had fallen into their familiar, easy physical relationship.
It wasn't until the complications of the Jake Stanton case that Olivia realized something was different. Recently, she'd gone on a couple of dates, with men who turned out to be more than merely disappointing. Alex became tense and difficult to work with, which built until an eruption in the courthouse hallway as Cabot was boarding an elevator.
Olivia realized that this time, it had to be about more than just sex. It was time to be an adult again. Elliot had been known to joke that she was a serial first-dater. Did he know that she had spent 12 years alienating other men, just to settle for what little attention he gave her? She had let her partnership with Elliot – one that had really only ever been an emotional affair – dictate her adult relationships. Now she made the decision to go for something more serious, one more time.
She invited Alexandra to go skating in the city. They sat in a rink-side café and sipped gourmet hot chocolate. The evening was chilly but beautiful, with twinkling city lights and the shouts of children showing off on the ice. Liv didn't bother to hide her gazing at Alex, and the small smirks of pleasure that followed.
They made their apologies over the Stanton case, and then left shop talk behind. When they were full to the brim with hot chocolate, they laced up their rented skates and toddled out onto the ice. Cabot hardly made it ten feet before her skates went out from under her, landing her on her ass.
"Oh!" Liv chuckled, offering a hand to the embarrassed blonde. "Should I kiss it better?"
Alex narrowed her eyes, allowing the brunette to help her up. "Not here," she answered.
Liv giggled. "Later, then." She kissed Alex as preview, warming them both, eager to show her that her intentions were changing.
Liv had often wondered if her years at SVU had robbed her of her ability to have fun, but their night put the question to rest. They were cold and breathless when they finally skated to the rink's exit. Giggling, they helped each other off with their skates.
"I can't remember the last time I was on skates," Liv smiled when they were back in their shoes.
"Can't remember the last time I did anything other than prep witnesses or write a pre-trial motion," Alexandra griped.
"Well, this was a start. Do it again?"
They were smiling at each other. Liv was very pleased with herself.
"Yeah."
Her cell rang, and it was Cragen, calling her away to a crime scene at a nearby theatre.
"Work?" Cabot asked.
Liv sighed. "Yeah. It's close by – why don't you join me?"
/ / /
"Jeez, the director, the I. T. guy, the judge . . . just pick your pervert," Rollins frowned.
"Well, a pretty girl, new to New York City - every guy she met saw her as easy prey," Olivia explained, her years in the city highlighting her ingrained bias.
"Can I ask you something?" the younger detective said. "How long have you worked SVU?"
Liv sniffed over a laugh, thinking the attractive blonde was sizing up either her age, or her weariness. "Don't ask."
"No, it's just . . . how do you trust any man, ever, after working this job day in, day out?"
Olivia took in Amanda's serious, young eyes, and the difference in years between them felt huge, palpable. She took a deep breath, not wanting to dash the young woman's hopes or expectations. "I trusted my partner."
Amanda grimaced, unimpressed. "Yeah, okay."
"I haven't given up hope. There are good guys still out there," Liv encouraged, assuming that Not all men are rapists was all the Georgia Peach wanted to hear.
But Rollins didn't seem convinced, or even pacified by the answer. It made Liv more and more curious as she watched her colleague slowly return to her desk.
/ / /
Against her better judgement, Olivia agreed to join David Hayden for a drink. The restaurant he had chosen was crowded that night, which was somehow comforting for Liv.
"I have to admit, we were not sure about you at first," she smiled.
"You can trust me. I'm an attorney," he teased.
His smile was magnetic. Liv couldn't remember the last time she had been drawn to a man in so many different ways. David was not at all how Olivia had thought of Elliot; the dissimilarities helped her feel healthier, like the attraction wasn't simply about replacing El. Elliot had been steel, safety, and guarded emotion where David was boyish, easygoing. David seemed all soft sweaters, college polo matches, and had none of the bitterness that came with working sex crimes for over a decade.
"A little secret: I can be a little testy when I work with new people," she confessed.
"I can be somewhat testy around my kids."
"You have kids?" Liv felt her belly warm pleasantly.
He nodded. "Boy and a girl. They live with my ex-wife in Cobble Hill. You?"
"Me. Uh . . ." she took a breath, hesitating, not trusting herself yet. "I'm just getting over something," she answered.
Was 'something' Elliot, she wondered, or her recent failure to launch with Alex? The two women had tried, but the volatile nature of Alex's job had ultimately done what it always did. Alex dropped the news that her intention wasn't to stay on in Manhattan, and that another transfer was around the corner. Olivia, who sought consistency in her personal life to offset her chaotic day job, had let things cool until Alex finally called it quits.
But Olivia would also be lying if she said that her feelings for Elliot were gone.
"Isn't everyone," David mused, seeming only a little disappointed. "Can you stay for another round?"
She couldn't trust her judgement around him after a few more drinks, she decided. "You know, um . . . why don't we call it a night? You need a clear head in front of that Grand Jury tomorrow."
"Rain check?"
"I'd like that," Liv smiled. It was a new year after all, she supposed, and high time to try healing old wounds, breaking old patterns. She was used to running from anything that felt healthy or took her outside of the job. Olivia had made a secondary career out of denying herself a personal life.
As she and David left the restaurant and each hailed a cab on the frosty sidewalk, Liv took another lingering look at his smile and wondered where something healthy might possibly take her.