DISCLAIMERS: Law and Order: SVU characters in the story are the creation of Dick Wolf, NBC owns all the rights… I'm just burrowing the characters for entertainment and I'm using them without permission just for fun not for profit. No money is being made, and no harm is intended.

SPOILERS: There might be some mention of events during Season 10 Episode 15 Lead.

PAIRING: Alex/Olivia implied.

SUMMARY: What happened that night after the trial? My own attempt on filling in the blanks in Lead.

A/N: One time shot for now, I'm not sure where this may going, I suppose that my muse needs to be spurred by future episodes, I don't know… yet.

Don't forget to review!

Are you?

By V

They say that heroes have feet of clay and that the princesses in fairytales are just that, a fairytale; a myth that knights in shinning armor don't exist except in the writers' realm of imagination. In reality many things are said, some truer than others. The truth was that she didn't feel like a princess, or a heroine and sometimes not even sufficiently human to be able to feel or cry.

There was a time the audacity to feel invisible, to believe that what she fought for day after day put her in a special place, made her different. The fact that she came from a well to do family such as hers and to have a name that inspired respect and maybe something else always had been something good. She had the name, the connections, the reputation and above all the intelligence to be able to overcome whatever she set her mind to. And being an Assistant District Attorney was only another stepping stone to greater things; things that she had dreamt of since childhood. If someone had told her that they knew her future that they knew what road she should take to succeed she would have laughed. No one could know the future or could stop it. The truth was we are the ones that dictate our path and it is our actions that at the end choose which path to take, with or without a crystal ball.

She could remember clearly the first time that she met her; she recalled her eyes full of disdain and indifference, almost as if only by looking at her she knew who she was and could read her soul. She made her feel fear, an emotion that she didn't know and behaved accordingly. She pulled from her emotional arsenal her arrogance and iciness to mask over the feelings stirred up by a single stare from her, unshackling her body and shaking her soul. For months she tried to deny the truth, for months she tried to hide the attraction that she felt with professional antagonism. The months turned to years and before she put into words what she inspired, before she would dare let her see what she really felt, when it looked as if both would find the courage to take the first step to something more than just friendship. A friendship that ironically both had tried to maintain by pretending to not take notice, when everything seemed normal, her life stopped being normal and she had to learn to be something she was not.

And she wanted to die, and oh, she was, and she wanted to rebel against her destiny, but destiny had already decided with or without her. The Ice Queen had become Emily in some City in Wisconsin. Nothing made any sense, she had lost control of her life, and she had to learn to be the actress that she always knew she was.

Hah! Of course as an attorney you have to know how to handle your environment. You have to play a certain role even if within you are against the injustices. You have to be cold, calculating, and indifferent if only to survive in that cruel world that was SVU; a world where hopeless victims wanted to make you cry inconsolably, one where justice was everything but it wasn't.

All her adult life she had worked to bring justice to the victims but when it was her turn, the justice forgot her name. At the beginning SVU was only a stepping-stone in her meteoric rise towards becoming a DA, Senator or State Governor of NY. All of that disappeared in the moment that the victims began to have a name, face an expression of horror and then learn that it just wasn't a title that mattered in order to be happy, but something much more which she learned only too late.

To see her smile for a job well done and justice for the victims, that and more was what mattered; if she had only dared say something when she returned for her murderer's trial; just seeing her again at Connor's trial, to feel her gaze…

****

God, how was I able to hide everything I felt the moment I stood before her, feeling her questioning gaze. I knew she had so many questions. I could feel her fear, her uncertainty as if it were a dagger against her flesh. Each one of her words made my heart bleed and cry from within suffering as never before. But I remained silent, every word every gesture was in vain as I tried to hide my pain knowing that I had not come back to stay. That within hours I would be taken to another unknown location as soon as the trial was over, so I had to continue pretending. What good was it being Alexandra Cabot for a couple of days if within a couple of minutes I had to learn to be someone else? And to disappear once again with a new face, and a new life that wasn't my own.

For three years I've had to think and rethink, for three years I have tried to reconcile my past with my present, I have tried by every means to give meaning to my life. I tried to recapture what was mine, be what I once was, but the years in exile have had a steep price to pay. I might be Alex Cabot on the outside, but inside I know I am not the woman who lay on the sidewalk bleeding to death in front of O'Malley's. That night I not only lost my life, but the possibility of becoming what I wanted to be.

I didn't expect McCoy's call, it took me by surprise and I knew if I had given it some time to analyze it that I wouldn't have accepted. I was terrified, for three years I had denied myself the possibility of rebuilding that bridge. I felt too emotionally unstable; I thought that if I gave myself time to be me again, I could be able to find the inner strength to see her again. Strength to extend the olive branch and see if what had been between us even though it had never been externalized was still there. But my fear held me back, paralyzing my body and my senses. I had been a coward, I still am, I was afraid to return and see her with someone else. I was afraid to discover that everything had just been a product of my forced exile. But more than anything else I was afraid of dreaming and wishing for something that had never been mine.

I should be with them like in the old times, enjoying a victory drink at O'Malley's or maybe Chauncey's. I should have accepted her invitation but I couldn't bring myself to wait, to hope that things between us could be the same. Nothing was the same, not her, not the world, nothing; they weren't my detectives and I wasn't the SVU ADA. I was only doing a favor for McCoy.

She had the perfect excuse; she was exhausted after years of not being exposed to that kind of tension. With a grateful smile I excused myself still hearing her words when everything was finally over at the courthouse, "You really are back, are you?" Still ringing in my eras with a crooked grin, the one that always made my heart skip a beat. I wanted to do something else besides smile with false confidence. I wanted to scream 'I'm back! I'm here, look at me, I'm sorry.' But I didn't do any of those things, I picked up my things, went to my temporary office, did some paperwork and I was gone from One Hogan Plaza just after five. I took a taxi and I made him drop me off three blocks from Central Park and 5 blocks from my house. I needed to clear my head, needed to be alone; I needed to find my equilibrium. And what I really needed was she...in my life, by my side, with me.

The knock at my door pulled me out of my sad thoughts, taking me by surprise. I had been staring out at the NYC skyline one of many new habits. I would stare out at the city for hours, thinking. I certainly hadn't expected any company; much less that someone would be knocking at my door not when you had to get past the doorman who would announce you before letting anyone by. I took a quick look in the mirror just above the foyer table. I was dressed in a comfortable tank top and yoga pants, one of the few things that had been left over from my days in WPP. I needed to be comfortable at home, so it didn't much matter. Without thinking I opened the door, it had taken me some time to get over looking out the peephole before doing so. But it was one of the things that I had made myself get over; after all I had no reason to live in fear anymore. I was free. I was saved.

"Are you?"

"Wh...what?" I said a bit surprised, I blinked several times, trying to shake off the stupor.

"Are you back, are you really back?"

I know I must have said something, I know I must have whispered something. I know I did because Oh God, I never thought, never dared to dream. Oh God, I know I'm crying. I can feel my body shaking and Oh God I never believed, heaven, she is my heaven.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes" I repeated time and time again between sobs.

I know I should have done something, I know it, because I am now in her arms. She holds me so tenderly and sweetly as I had always dreamt it could be. I had never felt so secure...home! I try to listen to the words she is whispering in my ear, words that I can't quite make out but are a balsam for my anguished soul. I know I must have said or done something, I know but for the moment I only want to be here in her arms. There will be plenty of time to ask for forgiveness, give explanations or say I'm sorry. But for the moment I only know that I must have done something so that now I am in her arms.

End?

Let me know what you think, please review.