Title: Shattered

Author: IWriteIRunILive

Ships: Alex/Olivia and Serena/Abbie

Summary: The story of how two women realized their feelings, acted on it and met bliss. Only to have it shattered.

Authors Note: Hey readers, I know that you all are thinking a multitude of thoughts. Firstly being, why haven't I updated It's All I Have? I am working on, it just so happens that whilst I was out of the country I wrote a story. Yup, that's right, a story. I will admit that it is a little strange, as it involves a topic that (as far as I know) has never been done before. So, with all my ramblings aside, read on. Enjoy.

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Thursday

June 2011

It's dark, the lights of the city shine in the fading distance as the car I'm driving flies on the abandoned highway. Maybe it's because the highway really is empty, or I'm just going that fast that I don't see any other cars. Whichever it is, it suits me, alone is what I need to be, where I need to be right now. The blood is pounding in my head, it's the only sound I actually hear, besides my own ragged breaths as I inhale faster than I exhale. I need to remain in control but really, I don't see a point, I'm alone, in my car, going ninety miles an hour in a sixty zone.

My vision is blurring because of the tears that threaten to overwhelm me, threaten to spill down on to my face, each one a searing, salty reminder of what I'm running from. My hands are clenched down on the steering wheel, so tight that my knuckles are white and the muscles in my hands ache. I'm sitting up straight and tall, pressed into the seat, trying to dissolve into it, become one with the machine, or maybe just disappear. I'm so rigid, so taught, because I'm afraid that if I let go, relax in the smallest manner, I will loose all control.

I'm loosing control now, the tears, are sliding down my face and no matter how fast I blink, I'm unable to stop them. My grip on the wheel slackens slightly and suddenly I'm full on sobbing. I pull over to the side of the road as fast as possible, without killing myself, and just let it out. I don't really ever cry, or at least I didn't. I suppose its because of her that I started crying more, not because she caused me emotional damage or anything of that manner but rather, she showed, told, me that it is okay to be human. It's because of her, my walls came down in the first place. For the first time in my life I was not as stoic and as cold as most people perceived me to be.

I used to wonder how she saw past my walls, tore down my defenses and found the real me, the true me, eventually I had realized, she was just like me.

Sure we come from different backgrounds but we hide in the same way, putting on this front that 'everything is fine' when really we're dying on the inside. We dance on the line of self destruction everyday, but nobody knows because no one sees past the walls. I recognized myself in her, and that, allowed me to open myself up to her. Beyond all else, I found a kindred soul, a broken woman, in her and for that, I am always in her debt.

Or at least I was.

See this was all before.

Before the lies.

Before the disappointment and the anger.

Before the…

My phone is ringing.

I'm so wrapped up in my own misery that when I do finally realize that there is another sound in my car besides my own weeping, I've already missed the call. Actually I've missed three calls and in all honesty I couldn't care less. She's probably trying to apologize but really, what is there to apologize for? It's not like she's sorry.

Or judging by the moans and the groans of pleasure coming from our bedroom she's not.

God. Fuck. It's ringing again and this time it's not her but Serena. Serena Southerlyn and I have been friends since law school, granted there was that rough patch were I found out that she was dating my ex, Abbie Carmichael, but I pulled my head out of my ass pretty quick on that count. I know Serena's trying to help, trying to reach out to me, or just make sure I'm still alive, but right now I just need to be alone.

Or maybe I just don't know what else to be right now.

I went twenty-one years of my life, alone. Twenty-one years when I was forced to make the 'Cabot Name' look good. Twenty-one years of galas and ballet and horse riding and etiquette school and really, the list goes on and on. Then, two years into college I met Abbie Carmichael. She was the exact opposite of me. She was wild, had little respect for authority and knew how to get exactly what she wanted. Being with her was exhilarating. More than exhilarating, Abbie Carmichael showed me the life outside the aristocratic circles I had grown up in.

Then, like all good things, it came to an end. Abbie wasn't the settling down type and I wasn't looking for the long term relationship, so we broke-up. However we remained friends throughout law school where Serena joined our duo, then to be trio. I thought, for a long time, that things were finally looking up in my life.

My parents were happy that I had chosen a respectable career from their list (seriously they had a list of paths I could take for my life), I had friends and, most of all, I didn't feel alone. Then I walked in on Abbie and Serena doing it. Not just making out but full on, clothes off, pressed up against the kitchen counter, moaning and groaning.

So there I was, alone, again.

Like I am now.

The tears have almost sub sided, unlike the phone calls which have now mounted to her-3, Serena-4, Abbie-2. Plus a text message from Abbie:

Freaking out on this end. Call me Lex. –Abbie

Some part of me feels guilty because I know that I should call them back, at least let them know I am alive and, well, just alive. Except I can't bring myself to do it, I can't bring myself to explain to them why I ran out of our apartment building in near tears. Or why I ran three red lights so I could get out of the city. Or why I am now on the side of the road, just finishing bawling my eyes out, all because of her.

I rest my head on the top of the steering wheel and try to figure out what to do because right now, going back to my apartment, where she is everywhere, or my office, for the same reason, are just not options. In the midst of my emotional roller coaster I realize one thing, it's obvious I am not going to work tomorrow. At some point in the near future I am going to have to call Jack McCoy, making it the first thing on my checklist.

But then it stops. I have no clothes, and no cash money on me which means I need to find an ATM, which means I need to get off the highway and find some civilization. First, and it takes a lot of will power to do this, I pick up the phone and call Abbie.

"Alex!" she practically shouts as a means of picking up the phone "Are you okay? Where are you? Will you please tell me what's going on? All I know is that you vanished from work and no one has heard from you since. Well expect me, cause now-"Being greeted by this panicking, worrying side of Abbie, which I've only experienced once before, sends an uprising of guilt swell in my gut.

I cut her off "Abbie." I say "I'm fine, I just, just need some time to figure things out, figure me out."

"What happened?" Abbie asks, all rambling and panicking aside "Do I need to kick somebody's ass?"

I let out a small laugh, knowing that if I said yes, Abbie would actually go and kick her ass for me "No." I sigh "Abs, I don't feel like talking about it, not right now."

"Fine." Abbie says, although I can tell by her tone of voice that she's not happy with not being 'in the know.' "Can you at least tell me where you are?"

"Actually?" I ask, knowing the real answer will probably make her worry all over again.

"No, I want you to lie to me." She responds dryly.

"Right now I'm on the shoulder of the highway."

"What?" Abbie exclaims, her reaction being just what I pictured it to be "What do you mean 'the highway?' Alex!" she's frustrated with me and it's showing but I know that she only acts like this because she cares.

"I'm going to the lake house in New Jersey." I finally say, only just now deciding on my destination, but picking it because this time of year it is going to be empty, well as empty as a one and a half million dollar lake house can be with full time security and cleaning staff.

"You sure?" Abbie asks, and one of the things I love about her is that even without knowing why I'm running, she knows that I need to. She also happens to know that if I show up at the lake house with no clothes and a tear stained face, my mother would be informed and right now that, of all things, is not what I need "Why don't you go to my place, it's closer and more private.

I smile because by "private", Abbie means 'no one is going to call your overprotective mother, unless they no longer value their job.'

"Thanks, Abs, that would be amazing." I say, and I mean it.

"No problem, there are clothes my room that might fit you. Actually" she pauses, as if she's reconsidering "there are probably some of your clothes in the guest room, two doors down from my room in the closet just behind the door."

Even being such an emotion wreck, I can't help but smile "How do you have so much of my clothes at your lake house?"

"Oh come on." Abbie says and I know that she's smiling, through her concern "How long have we been friends?"

"That" I say "is a good point." And I know that Abbie is going to want to come see me, come make sure that I'm alright and haven't done anything stupid.

Hence her next question "Alex" her tone is softer, as if she's nervous, which is rare because Abbie Carmichael never gets nervous "I'm worried." I hear a scuffle and Abbie yelps in pain "We," she corrects quickly"Serena and I, are worried about you. You didn't show up for drinks, didn't call, weren't at your office, or the precinct, didn't pick up your phone."

In Abbie speak that roughly translates to "We want to give you space but something is going on and as your best friends we need to know what."

So, obviously, I can't say no to such logic "Right now I just need some space but, Saturday, Saturday night I will tell you everything."

"Okay." Abbie sighs, I can tell that's much to long for her to wait but I know that she will, because she trusts me "But Lex" she adds "if you need me, or just wanna talk, call me. I'm not in court tomorrow or Saturday so you don't need to worry about interrupting."

"Thanks Abbie." I say, suddenly becoming aware of just how alone I actually am in my car "Look, I gotta go if I want to reach you place before three am."

"Be safe Alex." Abbie says and adds in a whisper"We're here for you."

"I know." I reply "I know." I repeat, before hanging up.

I am once again alone, and I can not stop the memories of this evening from flooding me, overwhelming me. It's a good thing I could drive to Abbie's lake house with a blind fold on because right now, right now I just can't focus.

My life is in ruins, well not work, but the best part of my life, my love, my lover, cheated on me and I haven' t got a clue why.

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Tuesday

February 2011

Snow Days are a rare occurrence in the New York City, most of the cities occupants have adapted to the harsh winters and thus the city rarely shuts down. However rarely doesn't mean never. Today is one of those days, it's unfortunate really, for me anyway, because at the moment when the city was taken by storm, literally, I am at work.

It seems fitting, for me to be at work when the biggest snow storm that New York City has ever seen hits.

It's pushing two thirty am but with my current case load going home is just not an option. In fact I am now resorting to a technique that had gotten me through most of law school. To simplify the matter, I studied or whatever for two hours, slept for half an hour. It was a system that would seem counter productive to most, but for me, it did wonders.

The tiny, eight point font of the law text book I was attempting to scan for precedents was blurring and the words made no sense. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've been staring the same page for the past half hour with out actually garnering any nuggets of insight from it. I'm just about to close the book when two things happen at once. The first thing that happens is that the power goes out, not just the sudden whirring down of the generators or the flash of a power surge but a loud, explosion sound that shook the entire building. The second occurrence, which takes me a minute to process because I am now in the complete darkness, is that there is someone knocking on my door.

This is unnerving on a regular night, or early morning, when the power hasn't just gone out, but now, now light and visibility still near zero, my heart is pounding in my chest. The person on the other side of the door continues to knock and then, finally realizing they had a larynx, I heard a familiar voice "Alex? You there?"

"Olivia?" I reply, not sure if I heard correctly.

The door swings open and in walks Special Victims Unit Detective Olivia Benson, or at least that's who I'm hoping it is. Considering my eyes haven't yet fully adjusted to the darkness of my office I'm left with only hoping that the shadowy figure entering my office. Just in case, my hand slides down to the desk drawer where I keep the, wait for it, letter opener, oh yea Alexandra Cabot will defend herself tooth and nail with the letter opener.

"You can keep the letter opener in the drawer counselor." Comes Olivia's voice and I can't help but laugh because she knows exactly where I keep my weapon of choice "Although I still don't know why you won't update that weapon."

"What would you prefer detective, a Glock?"

"Sure, or something a little scarier than a letter opener would be fine." She replies

"What, you have a problem with my letter opener?" I ask, mocking hurt "Thing has never failed me before."

"So you've used it in the past?" Olivia asks and suddenly there is a serious edge to her voice as she probably scans her memories for any moments that I was forced to protect myself using the letter opener.

"In self defense? Yes." I respond honestly "It was during law school, some drunken frat boy decided that I was his next drink."

I'm not surprised to see that my hands are shaking at this point, I haven't talked about this for so many years that I almost forgot about how legitimately terrified I was that night.

"Yo! Cabot!"

I'm so absorbed in the paper I'm writing on cross-examination that at first I don't notice the pounding on my door until it swings inward so hard it falls off its hinges. I turn, trying to figure out what the hell is going on, this paper is due tomorrow and I still haven't come up with a decent concluding statement, I don't have time for this kind of bullshit.

"Go away Aaron." I sigh, but something about tonight was different, something about to night set of alarm bells inside my head.

"Naw, come on baby. Just one time." He's walking towards me, well if you can call staggering, walking and he has this gleam in his eyes.

I stand up, my blood pressure quickly rising as I realize that Aaron is a good few inches taller on me and a football player, so muscling my way out is not an option. He's now just inches from me and I can smell the alcohol he's consumed radiating from his pores and his unrelieved sexual tension is present in more ways than on "Come on Allie." He whispers into my ear, his hands roaming my body as I try and fight off his advances.

"No." I say firmly and I use all my weight to try and push him off me (and fail) I realize I need some kind of weapon. So now, as my hands are scrabbling back against the desk they finally settle on something cool, metal-like, and, thankfully, sharp "Aaron, get off me." I shout

"Come on baby, just once, that's all I need." He moans and as he says this, he rips my shirt a little in his drunken attempt to take it off and I bring the letter open up and stab him.

I feel the blade slide through his shirt and through his skin like butter. Blood spurts from the wound and I feel it, hot and thick, sliding down my face. It makes me gag.

"In the end" I say, glad for the darkness which hides my shaking hands but not my quavering voice "two kids in the room next door heard the entire thing. Of course the lawyers settled out of court, Aaron came from a prominent family that was close to my own, he was sentenced to three years in prison and our parents agreed that it was a drunken incident, it would never happen again." I sigh, it feels strange telling that story.

It could be because since I moved to New York I haven't told anybody, why share something that was in my past? Not that I keep my entre past a mystery but everyone has their dirty little secrets that they don't feel like broadcasting to the world. That was one of mine.

There is silence in my office, the power still out and from the wall of white that I see outside my window that storm is still raging "Say something." I demand quietly, her silence is killing me, the 'what if's' I'm so good at keeping at bay almost overpowering me.

She looks up at me and although my eyes are more accostumed to the darkness then they were, I still can't read the expression on her face or the emotions in her eyes "How'd you get the letter opener back?" she asks

I smile, of all the questions she could have asked, or comments she could have made, that one was completely unexpected and somehow calmed my emotions "Truthfully?" I ask

"Was it illegal?" she replies, with a soft grin that's barely visible "Wait" she corrects herself "don't answer that question." There is a pause, but it's a comfortable silence.

It's only now as I sense the heat fading from the room that I realize just how close Olivia and I are sitting on the couch. I can feel the heat radiating from her exposed arm and the sound of her breathing matching my own steady pace. There's something about being this near to the brunette detective that makes my heart flutter and pound, an army of butterflies now occupying my stomach "Lex" she says, her tone softening "do you stay this late often?" her tone is gentle, like she knows how my work often consumes my life.

"About as often you stay at the precinct." I reply "The real question is why are you here at two forty-five am when it looks like the apocalypse outside?"

"Something flickered in Olivia's eyes right before she spoke, looking down at her lap "My apartment complex is getting fumigated, and, well…" she trailed off, not looking at me "I have nowhere else to go, Elliot's house is perpetually fully. Fin's with Melinda and Munch, well, it's Munch."

"So you battled apocalyptic conditions on the off chance I'd be here?" I ask, making sure my tone remained neutral. Olivia, knowing her like I did, had a tendency to bolt if she had perceived one glance wrong.

'I'd bet money that you spend more time here then you do at your own apartment." Olivia replies smoothly.

No matter how true that actually is, I know the same is true for her. I glance at my watch and I know I'm not getting home anytime soon, however "Look, Liv, I'm not going home anytime in the future, but feel free to crash at my place for as long as you want ."

Olivia glanced out of the window, whose view was blocked by a thick covering of snow and shook her head "I would, if I could, but I don't think I would survive your so dubbed apocalypse a second time." I can see her head moving side to side, no doubt surveying the rest of my dark office "Don't you have any flashlights, candles, or something we can use to light this place up?"

"Liz confiscated my flashlight last year for her surprise camping trip."

"Surprise camping trip?" Olivia asked an I just laughed

"It's a long story." I say with a grin, but it quickly fades as my mind flickers to the other long stories, like Penny Sheldons."

Olivia notices and places a hand on my knee 'What's on your mind?" she asks

I shake my head, pushing the emotions back, like I have done so many times before "Liv, so many times I fail the victims, the perp gets off, I have to plead them out. Sometimes it's okay but now, this case, I can't loose this one."

"Why do you have doubts?" Olivia asks " It's not like you." She says, and it's true, I am normally so confidant in my cases but something about the victim, the perp, the circumstances, it's different.

"The jury is not connecting with the victim." I said simply "I can't make them feel what she felt, the defense is walking all over me, sowing seeds of doubt into their minds. I'm doing my best, but" I hesitate "they just don't seem to get it."

"So tell them." Olivia says

"What?" I reply, thrown off by her response.

"Put Penny on the stand and get her to tell them exactly what happened to her. Every painstaking detail that she remembers, the blunt, honest, terrible truth, force them to know it."

I nod, letting this idea soak into my exhausted brain. The more I think about it, the more I realize that it is a good idea, it will be hard for Penny, hard for me but even harder for the jury to listen to her account because it will keep them awake at night, like it has done, and will continue to do to me. We have lapsed into another silence, during which a brain wave comes to me. It is not much, a small tid-bit that one of the junior lawyers mentioned to me in a brief conversation.

"Olivia" I say, and she glances up at me "I know your apartment isn't being fumigated…"

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Well,

Thoughts? Comments? Concerns?

I am interested to know if people are interested enough to see where this leads. I have written the story out, for both parts, but if you only want to see one or the other let me know.

Reviews are loved.

Flames will be used to toast marshmallows (I stole that from another author by the way)

Thanks,

IRunIWriteIive