Once Upon a Time
And after the storm
I run and run as the rains come
She can't remember the last time she has been to this type of event. It was probably around four or five years ago, when she was persuaded to go to the annual NYPD gala. It must have been, because she can recall complaining about it to Elliot afterwards. There tends to be a lot of small talk and ballroom dancing, thanking Mr. Such-and-Such and Ms What's-her-Name for their generosity. Finishing up her paperwork would have been a more productive way of spending the evening. She is pretty sure the only reason she has been invited this time, so firmly invited, is her dubious notoriety. As it is a charity event on violence against women, and she is acting commanding officer of SVU, she can hardly avoid going. On the up side, she was actually able to use her power to force Fin into coming along, despite his protests that he doesn't own a suit that fits, that he doesn't mingle, that it would be far better to take another female detective given the subject matter (earning him a death stare from Amanda), that there are prettier faces to present than his and that he can most definitely feel a flu coming on and might have to leave early. At least they are in this together, and she will have a friendly face to focus on when the spotlight is on her. She has made it clear to the organizers that her speech will be your basic "one in three women…", drawing on her professional experience, and will most definitely not include tearful "…it happened to me…" anecdotes. No way.
"I know it's not my kind of gig when they got napkins shaped like the Sydney opera house" Fin mutters under his breath, and she lets out a short, grateful laugh. The waiters in tails, moving gracefully between the circular tables to pour wine before people have even emptied their glasses, set her on edge, or maybe it's the prospect of having to speak in front of a room of law enforcement officials, most of whom are likely to know just who she is. She is not among friends here. She is not at home here.
Night has always pushed up day
You must know life to see decay
But I won't rot, I won't rot
Not this mind and not this heart, I won't rot
She sees him halfway across the room before they even start dinner, and it nearly makes her jump. It takes ten seconds for her eyes to convince her brain that he isn't just a freaky look-alike. She has been waiting for a chance meeting like this for a while, always telling herself how crazy it is to expect it in a city with millions of people and tens of thousands of police officers, where she managed to not run into him once in twelve years. It's pretty damn ironic that it should happen like this, because Brian is probably the second least likely person to be attending a charity gala after Fin. He must have been roped into this, and a flicker of amusement crosses her mind as she imagines him trying to squirm out of it with Tucker. It dies instantly when she realizes that they are not on equal footing here. Her name has been printed in the little program on the tables, and so when their eyes meet and he looks equally surprised to see her, she knows it isn't completely genuine. He gives her an uncertain little wave, and she makes herself smile back and nod at him, forgetting everything else for a moment. The embarrassment potential of this evening has just doubled.
Fin, who has been talking to her, follows her gaze and spots Brian as well, and she is thankful for his pokerface as his only comment is: "Oh, what's Cassidy doing here?"
"No idea" she replies curtly, signaling that she doesn't want to pursue this subject further.
"If you want to go say hi or whatever-"
"No, not now" she decides, taking in the fact that Brian is surrounded by a couple of guys, deeply engaged in a lively conversation, although he keeps glancing over at her. He is actually socializing. She doesn't know why that surprises her.
"You okay?" Fin asks evenly.
"Yeah." She averts her gaze and takes a look around the room, as if searching for other familiar faces.
And I took you by the hand
And we stood tall
"…only if we manage to do that, can we create a society that is safe for every woman and every girl" she finishes on a cliché line that is enough to bring the expected applause. She has succeeded at making herself nauseous, but no one seems to notice or mind. She has delivered the serious speech that was expected of her, perhaps a little less personal but to the point. Now she will look grateful to be here, smile pretty at the host of the evening and play along, just like she is supposed to. Later, people will join in the charade by feigning a sincere interest in the cause, and she will tell them how honoured she is to be here. People will donate, and it will all be for a good cause. Hopefully. And the Oscar goes to…
"Thank you for your attention." She is relieved to step back from the microphone. The lights are a bright glare, and she can feel a trickle of sweat running down her neck despite the fact that she pinned up her hair in anticipation. Her eyes automatically find Fin in the audience, who is clapping enthusiastically and gives her a thumbs up sign. Then somehow, they wander over to Brian's table as well, only a little further back. He is completely still, staring at her with an odd, absent expression, his mouth twisted slightly. Only when another man at his table leans over, saying something, does he join in the applause. It irritates her. She shouldn't have looked.
And now I cling to what I knew
I saw exactly what was true but oh no more
"Great speech" are the first words he says to her as he finds her by the bar much later, the first time they get a chance to be alone after the tables have been cleared and some people have started dancing. Fin has made his excuses, and she has stopped him from giving a lame apology and told him to just go home.
"Thanks." She half turns around while waiting for the barkeeper to finish pouring her drink. "Just your basic standard factsheet." She doesn't know why she responds this way. You are supposed to accept praise, not deny it, and she isn't fishing for compliments. She just doesn't want him to make a big deal of this.
"No, it wasn't" Brian shakes his head, tugging at his suit jacket in a fleeting motion. "It was honest. People…people listened, trust me."
"Good, that was the idea" she replies drily, turning back to pay and pick up her glass of wine. She is having white wine for a change, because it's cooler and it was served throughout dinner. If you are going to drink, drink consistently, and she hasn't done this for a while.
He approaches hesitantly, beer in hand, leaning against the bar beside her and, not so subtly, looking her up and down. "I was impressed. Seriously."
"Yeah, yeah…" She flicks her hand dismissively. He needs to get out of this serious zone, which makes this first meeting after a few months more difficult than it needs to be. "What are you doing here, anyway? Didn't think you were into black tie benefits."
"Black tie optional" he corrects her, picking up on the shift in tone. He has apparently taken the "optional" literally. She can't recall him owning a bow tie. "Tucker sent me to represent. It's for a good cause. Excellent speakers. And, you know, nice dinner…the chicken was good, wasn't it?"
"It was." She smirks at his rambling justifications for being here. There is no reason why Tucker should force him into it. "So is this a career move?"
"Hopefully" he shrugs. "We'll see. Things have been looking up."
"That's good. I'm glad that you're…good." Eloquence really isn't her strength today. Asking him how he is doing suddenly seems too personal. She can't help wondering what this event would feel like if they were still together. Would they join in the dancing, or stand around, uncomfortable in this environment? No, they wouldn't be at this event together if they were still together. They wouldn't be moving at all.
That's why I hold
That's why I hold with all I have, that's why I hold
It takes him about ten minutes of chitchat about work to mention that he has heard through the grapevine that she is fostering a kid, simultaneously apologizing for his knowledge and assuring her that he wasn't spying on her. She is glad he brings it up and relieved that he already knows, because she has been dying to tell him, but uncertain how. She didn't want to call him up, even though they once made a vague promise to stay friends. But they aren't friends, they never were.
"His name is Noah. He's the little boy who got moved around foster homes, from that case, maybe you remember-"
"Yeah, Baby Boy Doe." There is a clear recognition in his face, which has softened at the subject.
"Yeah. It all happened so fast. The judge simply made a decision, no application process and nothing. It just happened." And, in hindsight, she is so very grateful, because she knows she never would have gone that step otherwise, whether on her own or with anyone else.
"Well, you went to all the hearings, you cared about what happens to him, it makes sense, really." Why does he not look surprised about this at all?
"Yeah, but I was stunned, and pretty scared."
"It sure sounds overwhelming."
"It was. But it's also the best thing that's ever happened to me." She can't stop herself from telling him as it gushes out of her. In a way, he deserves to know.
His face breaks into a wide smile that extends all the way to his eyes. "That's great. I'm happy for you." It's not a friendly line, it's something he means without any spite, and she loves him for it at this moment.
And I won't die alone and be left there
Well, I guess I'll just go home, oh God knows where
She thinks of all the promises they used to make, whispered promises made in the deep of night, little promises made after a fight, big promises when they moved in together. "Things will get better. It just takes time." "We can do this." "I won't leave." "I don't mind. I really don't." "It's going to be okay." "It's not like last time, things have changed." "I'll be around more." "I'll always come home." "I'm here for you if you want to talk." "He can't hurt you anymore." "I love you too. Always will." There was a certain asymmetry in them, in who made them. She has never been a fan of false assurances, but once upon a time, they kept her going, at that time, in the place they were at. She doesn't need them anymore.
They are strolling along the empty sidewalk side by side, enjoying the peace at this late hour despite the round the clock traffic. Neither one of them is driving, obviously, and there is a shocking lack of taxis that will actually stop, so they have decided to go check at the main road even though Brian, if he hurried back, could catch a ride with an acquaintance. Once upon a time, she would have told him to go for it and refused his friendliness, and he would have caved and left her, sulking on his own. But now his company is a rare resource, and she doesn't quite want the night to end, because it might be another twelve years before she runs into him again.
"So who's looking after Noah right now?"
"Mrs. Adamoli from next door, remember her?"
"The cat lady?" he grins. He probably recalls her as the elderly neighbor who told him it was against the law to leave a pair of dirty shoes outside the apartment door, and that she could call the cops on him anytime.
"She's actually a pretty decent woman, once you get to know her. And she's raised three kids, as she loves to remind me." Mrs. Adamoli would no doubt have an opinion if she knew that she is wandering the streets at night with her ex-boyfriend. Sometimes, the woman is a little overbearing, to Olivia's annoyance. She isn't looking for a new mother, just a babysitter.
"Oh, I bet she does."
She shrugs. "As long as she's good with Noah."
"How are things working out otherwise? With work and a baby, and everything" he specifies uncertainly.
She thinks about this question for a moment. There is no way she can put into words what all this means to her, the way she thinks about Noah all the time, slipping from the table throughout the evening and calling the sitter to make sure everything is okay. The streetlights cast a soft orange glow on the dry pavement. She has read somewhere that they will be replaced with LEDs by 2017. Perhaps the brighter lights will increase security, but she will miss the familiar. Noah will be approaching his fourth birthday in 2017. "I'm working things out. Trying to balance. Motherhood changes your priorities, you know? I don't live to work. I work to live."
"Sounds healthy."
"I'll have to figure it out or there's no way they'll let me adopt." The wine makes her talkative tonight, she realizes, but she doesn't care.
He has tucked his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, and nudges her slightly with his elbow at this comment. "You'll be a great mom. Noah's a lucky boy."
Once upon a time, she might have snapped at him that she doesn't need a pep talk. Now, she smiles. "You're pretty good at knowing what to say today."
Well, I'm scared of what's behind and what's before
They wind up at one of the piers that serves as a viewpoint down by Hudson River. The bench has no back, and it feels like they are sitting on a wooden box overlooking a wide stretch of water. They are not alone, either, as the other benches are occupied by homeless people and kissing couples. Under different circumstances, it could be a romantic setting, down by the river in the deepest night, or creepy, depending on the situation. It is neither. There is no reason for them to be here, and it's not like either one of them made a conscious decision about heading here, but they have just kept talking and walking until they have literally hit the end. She feels comfortable in their newfound silence, gazing at the illuminated skyline at the other side of the river and the way the water reflects it. No stars are visible above them as the city illuminates the sky. She should be at home by now, but both Mrs. Adamoli and Noah would have been asleep for hours either way, and at a certain point, staying awake is easier than going to bed.
"Are you cold?" he breaks the silence.
"Not at all." The air is completely still and if anything, the night provides a relief from the daytime heat. She has taken off her shoes and sits barefoot, feeling the wooden boards underneath her feet as the hem of her long gown nearly touches her ankles. It must be very late, because the darkness has already lifted a little, and when she turns around, she can see a hint of purple on the horizon behind her.
"I used to go running here at 5am all the time" he tells her. "Now I'm lucky if I can squeeze in a morning coffee before work."
"Things change. So what's your plan?"
"My plan?"
"You know, for everything. Life, I guess."
"Jeez, Liv, that's a pretty big question" he mutters, his voice raspy. He is looking straight ahead with a quizzical expression. "Wait and see what happens. You know I don't really plan things."
"Yeah." It's a mystery to her how someone can be so dependable, so reliable when needed, yet so reluctant to commit to plans or take the initiative.
"I'm heading down to the Jersey Shore next month for a short trip. That's the extent of my plans."
"Fun." In all fairness, what is he supposed to tell her? That he's looking for a nice girl to marry who he'll have a million babies with? He can't very well say that, although she highly doubts that it's in his plans either way.
"And I still like the undercover work, as long as I'm not getting shot."
"Do me a favor and try not to get shot."
"Only if you promise the same."
"Deal." She leans in slightly so their arms touch, looking down at her painted toe nails and his black shoes. The grief at the back of her mind threatens to gain the upper hand, but she reminds herself that she is okay, that he is okay, that they will both be more okay than she ever thought possible. There is a kind of satisfaction in that. She wouldn't be where she is today without their history. "I'm sorry, Bri."
"About what?"
About the fact that they spent most of their relationship dealing with his shit, then her shit, then more of her shit, then even more of her shit, all the while never talking about it although he always wanted to. It doesn't seem right that now that things are finally better, they aren't living it together. But the explanation comes out less wordy than that. "About all my shit."
"Oh." She isn't looking at him, but she can sense his incomprehension, the way the wheels in his mind click. "Don't be. Ever."
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair
"This would never have worked, would it?" It's a rhetorical question she already knows the answer to, but she has to voice it anyway.
He leans in too and, without a word, his lips graze her temple as he places a lingering kiss there. She doesn't withdraw as she can feel his breath on her cheek, the familiarity of his touch. "Who knows" he replies quietly. "No, I don't think so. But I don't regret it."
"Me neither. No regrets." The admission takes some of the load off her chest. It's the end after the end. She draws back a little and smiles at him. He looks pleased.
And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart but dismiss your fears
"Let's go." She gets up from the bench and turns around. The purple colour above the skyscrapers has intensified, and she can now make out some dark grey clouds hanging low in the sky. The first birds are starting to sing, perched on lampposts and metal railings. In a couple of hours, the sun will rise.
Author's Note: This was just a random idea that popped into my mind as I was listening to Mumford and Sons' "After the Storm". I am aware that I may be rewriting very similar scenes in different ways over and over again, but oh well. I may run out of scenes before September. As always, I did not invent these characters or the Law and Order Franchise, and this is merely a derivative work not written for profit. And thank you for reviews, they are much appreciated.