Author's Note: Hello! Thanks for reading. This takes place after Turmoil. I want to make it clear before you read, that I am completely disregarding Alex Cabot's role in Conviction. For me, that year she appeared in Conviction, for this purpose, she would have still been in WPP. I have not seen Conviction, and in an interview Stephaine March said the only thing Alex from SVU and Alex from Conviction had in common were that they were about the same height. This story will explore some of the troubles Alex has because of the incident in Loss and PTSD which was implied she had in Lead. Some of the material is graphic, so if you get offended easily, please do not read. Reviews are appreciated and sorry for my crappy writing. I will try to improve as it goes on.
Sorry the first chapter is short.
Synopsis: A serial rapist is on the loose, and it is up to the detectives to find the perp. In the meantime, Alex, who is hurt by Olivia's words, decides to distance herself from the squad as per Sonya's advice. As the detectives get close to capturing the rapist that is terrorizing New York, they are enthrusted in a deadly game of Cat and Mouse, that puts emotions and true friendship to the test.
CHAPTER ONE
IT WAS LATE—even for the overnight cleaning staff, which had left hours ago, and yet she still sat at her desk, in the dimly lit, oversized office, that she hadn't moved from since she won the conviction of a teenager, Shane—whom had raped Nikki, on a bathroom floor—that afternoon. 10 years with a chance of parole hardly seemed fair to Nikki's father, who wanted Shane to spend the rest of his life in prison for hurting his daughter, but Alex assured him that every minute Shane was locked away and isolated from friends and family would be enough pain and torture to last a lifetime.
After all, she knew all too well what it felt like, but she couldn't tell them that; she couldn't tell anyone that.
She looked down at the case file that was open on her desk. Nikki's case file. Out of all the cases she prosecuted, this one bothered her the most, and she really had no idea why. There were cases much worse than this, and cases that she had lost that should have bothered her more, but this case—this case she actually won, and the victim had a chance of putting this behind her and rebuilding her life, and despite all that, it still bothered her.
She knew some of the uneasiness was due to almost losing her job and being investigated by the state bar. Another part was Sonya Paxton's chilling words that the detectives loyalties were to each other—not her. But mostly, and even though it pained for her to admit it, was because of what Olivia had said to her.
"I filed a formal request for a new ADA."
Out of all people, Olivia would have been the last person she expected to say that, and even though she was hurt, she wouldn't show it. Not to Olivia. Not to Elliot, and certainly not to Sonya.
When she first became the ADA for sex crimes, someone had told her that cops and lawyers could never be friends, but she always thought they were the exception.
Her lungs were burning, her heart was pumping, and her legs were aching. The New York wind nipped at her half-naked body, as the Central Park trees nicked her face, arms and stomach and feet (she had long ago abandoned the high heels she was wearing), as she pushed past the wooded area. She glanced back occasionally, making sure she had lost her pursuer, and all the while convincing herself that this was not happening.
She could feel herself becoming slower, and began to curse herself for not listening to her mother to take up running. She had scoffed at her mother, who was an avid runner, asking what she would need it for. Little did she know.
Even so, she willed her legs to keep going, just long enough to get some help. She glanced back one more time. She couldn't see him, but that didn't mean he was not there.
And then she tripped.
She clutched her bare ankle, as pain shot through her whole body. She attempted to get up again when she felt a pair of hands grab her legs. She let out a frightening scream, and in the process vomited from shock and fear.
"Please," She begged, tears streaming down her face. She was too tired to fight him like she had when he grabbed her on the other end of the park and ripped her shirt off. But he didn't listen, and instead she heard him unzipping his pants. The last thing she saw was the glistening knife in the moon.
The sun was just coming up by the time he got home. He was exhausted after a long night, but also completely satisfied. He walked over to a bed of rocks, removing a few to reveal a hidden safe. Entering the combination, he opened the compressed cooler to reveal test tubes filled with blood: his victims' blood. Taking a test tube out of his pocket, he placed the last one in a set of five, and smiled contently.
It was good to be him.