Ava Cabot
Sunday Mourning
Summary: "Love can't always complete you, but the love of someone from beyond the grave can help when trying to let go." Casey reflects; companion piece with Ghost.
Disclaimer: Just borrowing
Dedication: Cabenson, because she's a thorough beta, an awesome person, and an outstanding writer.
-----
It started to rain that morning at the funeral, a light, hovering mist that clung to my dress and hair, pooling into my tears and dampening my already wet face. The cleansing moisture clung to my pores as the sky began its own form of mourning. It was the rain that shook me from my reverie, falling softly across my face. I didn't want to go after what I had seen at the crime scene, Olivia's body lying crumpled on a Manhattan street. Of course, as the 1-6 ADA, I was expected to. But it wasn't just because of my ADA duty that I came—I had a personal stake in Olivia.
But that comes later.
I'd never witnessed the death of a cop before, but it was an experience that now haunted my every dream. The first thought that shot across my mind after they buried her, was if she would see Alexandra Cabot at the golden archway with St. Peter, or at the iron-gilded gateway to Hell. It was a jealous, childish notion that I tried to dismiss, but could not.
And that's what I remember first, when trying to stir up memories of her. Months after all that's happened, I still can't get past the funeral and the thousands of feelings that I began to drown in.
Throughout the two-hour long remembrance, I couldn't help but watch Elliot and his family the entire time. I was fascinated with how the Stabler family was handling their grief. They were obviously the family that Olivia never had.
The four Stabler kids were crying like there was no tomorrow. Elliot and Kathy represented two polar opposite forms of grief. Elliot was sobbing on John's shoulder, not even bothering to hide how deeply the loss of Olivia would affect him. Kathy, on the other hand, was biting her lip so hard, that I was surprised she hadn't bit through completely. Her eyes were red, and the tears she held back I knew were not for Olivia.
Kathy was saving her tears for later, when she would begin to lose her husband. She didn't know that Elliot would slip through her fingers, clinging onto Olivia's possessions, her spirit, and her memory. I wasn't the only one who Olivia's ghost would haunt.
Kathy's suspicious glares were something Olivia constantly worried over. She couldn't just go up to Kathy and straight out say that she wasn't sleeping with Elliot. But then again, was there much proof to the contrary? Everyone surrounding her was convinced that she and Elliot were sleeping together. Maybe in their case, it was better not to stir still waters. Olivia didn't want to risk destroying the already fragile marriage between Elliot and Kathy. She probably wouldn't have told me, if I hadn't probed her one night.
Kathy's position was a hard one, no doubt. Here she was, the wife of a sexy male cop, who nursed daily anxieties about her husband cheating on her. And who could blame her? She sure as hell didn't want to lose her husband, especially to his own partner. I hadn't been at Special Victims long enough to really know just how complicated the issue was. Nor did I ever pry into it. It was a policy to keep personal life out of the job, and everyone worked to keep it that way.
I know I still think about her. The black bags under my eyes are proof to that. I doubt Kathy could move on with her life, the way Elliot was dragging along.
But then again, I couldn't even begin to imagine how Elliot was feeling right now. I know that losing Olivia had been like tearing his heart out. But he was allowed to show how Olivia's murder affected him. I couldn't tell a single soul how I felt. It's one thing to have others surrounding you in times of grief. But then there are others, like myself, who are completely alone. Misery doesn't come close to the feeling of loneliness that I face now. I can't even describe it. I remember crying on Don's shoulder months ago, when he called the DA with the news. Arthur and Liz sent me over to the scene immediately, where I stumbled upon Elliot clinging to Olivia's bloodied and lifeless body. He was refusing to let anyone touch her, let alone take her body to the morgue. Every person there had removed their caps, despite the late winter cold. I shivered beside Don, as he and John gently pried Olivia from Elliot. I felt numb—not because of the chill—but because I felt completely helpless. I was screaming inside, every part of me on fire. I stumbled forward unconsciously, a strangled gasp escaping from my throat.
Don held me back from everything, grabbing me at the waist from behind. He pulled me back, as I twisted and pushed at his grasp. His hands were just as icy as Olivia's were, frigid and numbing to the touch. I cried for him to let me go to her. But they all pushed me back, away from everything. I watched everyone with red eyes, as the EMT's backed away from her body, shaking their hands and cursing the bastard who shot her. John and Fin had their heads solemnly bent, quaking with their silent anger. It seemed that all Elliot could do was howl, every raw emotion possible rushing through him.
I didn't know how to deal with my grief. It wasn't that I'd never felt this pain before. Losing my mother had been different, though. I was too young to remember her, and so I didn't feel the loss as strongly as my brothers and father had. I feel nothing but loss now that Olivia is gone. I had been close to her…in more ways than one.
Going home the weekend after Olivia's funeral was the only thing I could think of to do. Those two days I spent with my father still seem like a cold blur. I just sat and sat, refusing to let my own father know the entire story. For all I knew, he would kick me out after hearing the truth. I was afraid to tell my own father that I had fallen in love with a woman. For forty-eight hours, my father wandered into my old room often, trying to understand why I was so upset about Olivia's death. He knew that I would be affected by the death of one of the detectives I worked with, but he couldn't comprehend why it hit me so hard. I loved my father deeply, but in my state of mind, I reasoned that I couldn't tell him everything. I felt like my entire being was nothing more than a mistake. I was a freak of nature alone in the world.
When I woke up the morning after the funeral, I found myself suffocating in a tear-stained pillow. I was alone…but that was all too common for me. Even Olivia fed my solitary existence, staying through the night until I fell asleep—or passed out from the alcohol—and then leaving before I woke up.
When I returned to the city two days later, I deeply regretted my choice to fall back home. I felt terrible, not being to take relief in the home that had been my stronghold. I desperately wanted someone to confide in, and yet I had no one. No one, as far as I knew, could understand what I was going through.
That is, except for Elliot.
But what did he and I have in common? We both hated each other's guts. He resented me for becoming the new ADA. I resented his resentment. It was like a twisted viciousness that would never end between us. I wish the entire precinct and I had come together in our time of mourning. But in reality, I became even more isolated from them all. I didn't want to be separated, though. I needed them now, more than ever, as friends.
It's like I felt dirty, almost. I know Olivia wasn't afraid of the kind of person she was. But it became complicated with me. Sleeping with me was like sleeping with the enemy. I was the one everyone hated to associate with, and here she was falling into bed with me. What happened between us…she probably just considered it a fling. But did it mean something more?
Kathy Stabler must be out of her mind by now. I knew how much pain I was going through, but who could imagine hers? Everyone was focused on helping the immediate family of Olivia—John, Fin, Don, and most importantly, Elliot. She couldn't even comprehend her husband's pain. And that was just it—her husband was hurting, but she couldn't help. Kathy was lost in the background, caught in an awkward position that she couldn't escape.
Is that what I'm still going through right now? That I've been pushed aside too? I'm just the ADA…the person no-one wanted to accept at first. I was the woman with a seemingly empty head and identity that wasn't Alex Cabot.
I can see them both in my nightmares now. I haven't had a pleasant dream since I took over Alex's job. They're together again, which is all Olivia ever wanted since that fateful night when Alex was murdered. And here I am again, alone. I thought I could handle being without anyone who cared for me. I survived the loss of my mother, and moving away from my family. I actually thought I was strong. And then I had to fall for Olivia, and get trapped in a love that wasn't really returned.
Olivia was my safe addiction, the one I couldn't lose control with. She wasn't a habit to abuse or even take for granted. It wasn't like I was a loser caught by Narcotics, killing myself slowly with shots of heroin, snorting crystal meth, or even huffing paint thinner. Instead I slept with her, taking in all the baggage that came with every night's pleasure. Olivia was irresistible, sure, but she carried pain that no else understood. Alex probably did—though she was dead in the ground, she would never be dead in Olivia's heart.
Something I could barely tolerate was the constant pushing away. I tried to be understanding of everything that went on in her life. At times, I wondered why I bothered. It was basically a love-hate relationship.
The first time I kissed her…it wasn't like those kisses you get playing Seven Minutes in Heaven during sixth grade parties, or even the scorchers you get away with in high school broom closets. I didn't get my tongue bit—that was a disaster in 10th grade—or even have a bruise that looked like a bad attempt at a hickey.
It wasn't anywhere romantic, like a rooftop garden or even at a five star restaurant. I'm not going to lie and say it was clean-cut, either. Olivia's mouth tasted like red wine and cherries, almost unbearably sweet. Her tongue thrashed everywhere, and I should've pretended that I wasn't completely into what she was doing. It was just that…I'd never been kissed like that before. I didn't want to admit, even to myself, that I wanted her to kiss me like that again.
I wondered how I would act around her after that. Would it be sufficiently awkward enough now, since she'd made more than friendly contact with me?
And here I am now at the stationhouse, staring up at the mocking shine of the stars, which seem to sparkle with a thousand diamonds glare. I don't know why I'm still here at the stationhouse. The case we just closed is history. I should be home now, curled up on a couch that still smells like Olivia. But even home has too many memories of her that I can't face.
But somehow, I can't leave just yet. Some unseen force is keeping me here, I can just tell. Maybe it's Olivia's undead presence, her ghost dancing taunting circles around me. She's driving me into something.
"Casey?"
I knew I was still here for a reason.
"Elliot," I replied curtly, silently cursing Olivia. "Still here?"
"Yeah…couldn't go home yet."
"I see." It wasn't like I could come up with anything witty to say back. Besides, he looked so painfully ragged, that I wouldn't have the heart for saying anything snappish back.
"You're working on a case, I assume." Polite conversation might be a good way to end the awkward silence.
"No…I just couldn't go home yet."
Jesus, he wasn't making this easy at all. Casually, I sidled up against the nearby lamp-post, Elliot's eyes flickering briefly for a moment in the light. But then they were reduced back to a hollow emptiness, rightfully accustomed with a grieving person.
"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" he said suddenly, staring at me.
"Excuse me?"
"You have a lost look on your face."
"I do?"
"Yeah."
"Well aren't you gifted," I remarked back, slipping into my coat pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. My hands shivered as I removed a glove, lighting the tobacco tube and inhaling the stale methanol scent.
"Those will kill you, Novak," Elliot stated curtly. "And they smell cheap too. And since when were you a smoker?"
"I'm not a smoker."
"Well you sure could've fooled me."
"It's just for when I'm stressed."
"The famous last words of all smokers."
"Just leave it alone, please, Elliot."
He watched me carefully, his eyes seeming to bore right into me. I hated that stare of his—Olivia had a glare just like it, meant for intimidating suspects or scared ADA's.
"Okay, you win," I grudgingly muttered, throwing the cigarette down and squashing it with my boot. Flickering ashes brightened under the pressure, scattering across the asphalt in a dying pattern. The fire died out, and the smoke trail vanished into the sky.
"Thank you," he said, cracking the smallest smile.
"Sure." I crossed my arms, pouting a bit. I was put out that I still felt intimidated by Elliot's presence. I thought that after a few years of being around him, I'd get used to his angry stares, macho poses, and genuine smirk. But I wasn't—I was still anxious around him.
It felt worse now, with Olivia gone. At least I had something with her, even if it didn't seem to mean much now.
"She really cared for you, Casey."
"You're just full of wisdom tonight, aren't you, Elliot?" I remarked snidely, turning away from him.
"You flatter me too much, Case."
The casualness in his tone broke something in me. I whipped around, uncrossing my arms, trying glare back at him with as much ferocity as I could find.
"What happened to this sarcasm of yours?" I snapped. "Where was it when Olivia was dying in your arms, and all you could do was moan and utter, 'She took the bullet for me'? Where was it when Olivia's coffin was being buried, and you sobbed for hours on Cragen's shoulder? Where was it when I tried her murder case, and you sat there silently, shaking with silent anger?"
"Sometimes sarcasm is all you have left. I know that's how it was with Alex."
"I'll bet she was happy to see Olivia," I shot back hotly. "Together again, gone from insignificant people like me."
He reached forward suddenly, grabbing my shoulders. He shook me once, his face only inches from mine. Words hesitated on lips, and I knew I had hit a sensitive issue. "Alex is—"
He cut himself off abruptly, his eyes growing darker. "They both died martyrs," he ended coldly. "How dare you imply anything different."
"And what was I 'implying' exactly?"
"That you're worthless. Unworthy of someone like Olivia's love"
"Aren't I, though? I know you still hate me."
"Just listen to me, Novak."
I stared back at him, invisible fury burning through every bone. "What?"
"I know you two were involved, and that you loved her. But you'd never admit that, right?"
"Shut up."
"She loved you too."
That same fury shattered. I was back to feeling empty and desolate again, my arms hanging raggedly in Elliot's grip.
"She loved me?" I said softly, feeling my eyes tear up.
"She did, Casey. That's all you need to know."
"Why didn't she say it?"
"You know that she never admitted everything she was feeling. She didn't want to be hurt, to be vulnerable again. She wasn't afraid of pain, but of opening herself up too much to you."
He paused, letting go of me. He leaned against the cold station door, closing his eyes and sighing deeply.
"Did you love her?"
"'Course I did," he said quickly.
"No, Elliot, not as a friend. As…something more than that."
He shrugged. "Olivia was my best friend…but I saw the way she looked at Alex. She was in love with her for three years, and losing Alex just tore her apart."
"I'm sorry."
He chuckled quietly. "For what?"
I shrugged back playfully. "I don't know. It just felt like a time for apologizing."
He raised an eyebrow. "Whatever you say, Novak."
"See you tomorrow?"
"As long as there are cases to try."
I watched Elliot turn back into the stationhouse, shaking his head at our conversation. But I guess I'm not meant to take all this pain by myself after all. Olivia's death hit both of us the hardest, I suppose. That love I kindled for her, and the feelings she may have kept for me, are enough to allow me release all my grief. Love can't always complete you, but the love of someone from beyond the grave can help when trying to let go.
The picture I kept of Olivia hangs loose in my pocket, crinkled from frequent folding and unfolding. I pull it out, seeing the familiar smile and sparkling in her eyes. I gaze towards the dusty blue sky, and try to see the same smile in the stars. It's faint…but it's there. What touches me the most, as I close my eyes and finally let go, is that I never needed to know if she loved me. I don't need to wonder anymore, and I'm able to let Olivia's ghost move on.
Deep down inside, I'm able to keep something close to my heart, thanks to Elliot, of all people. It's that I remember everything with you and me not as separate bodies, but as one.
Us.
-----