Outside the window, the city refused to sleep. Cars dashed past, lights flickered, drunken college students ambled the streets and late-night coffee houses and diners held their own against the hour. It was three-forty-five in the morning; insomniac time. Finding an insomniac in New York City is as easy as opening your door and pointing.
Two of those insomniacs lay inside this room. One was curled into a nervous ball in the bed, knees against her chin, back against the headboard. The other was stretched out on the couch, staring at the ceiling. Each was pretending to be asleep.
Alex stared out at the city, and at the back of the couch where Olivia was presumably sleeping. She listened to her friend's breathing – slow, even. Either asleep or nearly there. Alex sighed and tried to arrange herself so that she wasn't quite so uncomfortable, but she couldn't settle. This was not a new complaint. In Wisconsin, she could only sleep if the television was on in the other room, the faint burble of some franchised cop show reminding her, a little, of home. Here, in the reinforced bubble of the safe room, it was deathly quiet. She wanted, more than anything, to slip out and just walk through the streets, smell the rot and hear the screech of cars and hookers and feedback, and sit in a semi-familiar bar with a glass of bourbon and pretend, just for a little while, that it was any other night from before when she couldn't sleep. That when she was done, she would hail a cab back to her apartment, with all her books and clothes and photographs, and sleep in her own bed, in her own pajamas. She had bought the same things again, the same novels and jewellery and candles and such, but it hadn't much helped.
"Is it just me, or are you still awake as well?"
Olivia's voice, which came from nowhere, startled Alex.
"Very much awake."
"Why am I not surprised?"
Alex heard the couch shift, then saw Olivia's silhouette against the window as her friend stood up and walked over to her. Alex shuffled over, and Olivia sat next to her.
"You OK?"
"Yes."
"Should I believe you?"
"No."
"Glad we cleared that up."
Alex laughed, and thought that she saw the ghost of a smile about Olivia's mouth, not that she could see much at all by the half-light of the window. Neither of them moved to turn a light on.
"You need sleep, Alex. I know that you're actually a superwoman, but even superwomen need sleep on court days."
Olivia bumped Alex's shoulder, and Alex nodded, then laughed when she realised that there was no way Olivia could have seen it.
"Good to see you've retained your unique sense of humour."
"Well, that and my hair are about everything I've retained."
"Glasses," Olivia said.
"Glasses," Alex agreed.
"Can I do anything to help?"
Alex shook her head, and paused. Then she rested her head on Olivia's shoulder. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Olivia rested her own head on top of Alex's.
"Talk to me," Alex said.
"What about?"
"Anything. Everything."
"Nice and specific there, Alex."
"I aim to please."
Olivia laughed then, softly, but Alex could feel it as much as hear it. On the bed, her hand brushed Olivia's, and, emboldened by a feeling of impending doom, she laced their fingers together. Olivia squeezed her hand gently.
"Tell me about…well, what's going on in the DA's office?"
"Of all the things you could ask…"
"I loved that job," Alex said quietly. "Loved it. Even though I made a pittance compared to the defence, and I had to work ridiculous hours, and always had to wear uncomfortable shoes."
"And it got you shot," Olivia reminded her, smiling.
"And it got me shot," Alex agreed blithely. "But really, what's a bullet after years of blisters?"
Olivia grinned and rubbed her thumb along Alex's knuckles. Alex's breath caught in her chest for a second.
"I miss it," she said, and Olivia squeezed her hand again, trying to impart some sort of comfort. Alex got the message.
"We miss you something awful," Olivia said. "So don't go torturing yourself that we've all moved on and forgotten you. It won't happen. Ever."
How Olivia had known that Alex did indeed sit up some nights, praying to a God she had never believed in that her friends had not forgotten her, Alex did not know. She did not care.
"I sort of thought you hated me," Alex said, so quietly that had Olivia been sitting anywhere else in the room, she would not have heard her.
"Nobody hates you. How could they?"
"I think the bullet hole in my shoulder begs to differ."
"No-one who matters," Olivia amended. "No-one in their right mind would meet you and think: 'That Alex Cabot is smart, kind, funny and beautiful. I do believe I hate her.'"
Alex blushed, a little, and hoped that Olivia couldn't see that. Without thinking about it, she leaned over and kissed Olivia's cheek.
"Thank you."
"My pleasure."
There was a pause as they settled back into their earlier position.
"I'm fairly sure Langan hates me," Alex said.
"When he isn't trying to seduce you, you might just be right. But QED. No-one who matters."
"QED? I thought Latin was my job."
"Eh, someone has to pick up the slack."
Alex smiled, and moved her head into a more comfortable position on Olivia's shoulder. They slid down, inch by inch as they were talking, until they were both lying flat on the bed, still resting on each other, hands still held tightly.
"Sleepy yet?"
"No. Nervous as all hell, Liv."
"I trust you. We all do. It'll be fine."
"And then I'll leave again."
"And then you'll leave again."
It grew quiet. Slowly, so that Alex had time to wriggle away if she wanted to, Olivia reached over and put a hand on Alex's waist. When she didn't say anything, Olivia turned her head so that she was facing Alex, and smiled as luminously as she could. Alex smiled back. They lay like that, faces so close together that Alex's hair was draped over them, clashing with Olivia's, and were perfectly comfortable. Olivia reached up to Alex's face and, with the pad of her thumb, closed Alex's eyes.
"Sleep," she said.
Alex shut her eyes obediently, opened one, saw that Olivia's eyes were closed too, and shut it again. She was warm and safe, two things that she had come to appreciate recently, and she was with Olivia, which was something she had always appreciated. It was a feeling she had thought she would never experience again. She would have sold her soul to stop time at that moment, to never have to leave again, to just lie here with the person she loved best in the world until the end.
Olivia was listening carefully to Alex's breathing, and could tell that she was not asleep. Softly, so softly that Alex had to strain to hear her even lying so close together, Olivia began to hum the Mr Softy song under her breath like some strange urban lullaby. Alex thought her heart might burst with love, even as she was smiling so hard her eyes hurt. When she was finished, Olivia moved her head so that it was level with Alex's, and, as gently as she possibly could, kissed her on the mouth. Alex kissed her back, for one glorious, perfect moment, and then, heart racing but eyes bleary with sleep, laid her chin on Olivia's shoulder. Olivia wrapped her arms around her, the way you would a child and the way you would someone who was hurt, and, more than anything, the way you would the person you loved most in all the world. And, curled together, they managed to sleep.