Some more A/O at the request of iamamember. Expanding a scene mentioned in another fic, "Finding Fault". Writing SVU is like visiting a former country, only to find that the borders have changed.
First she tried calling. When that didn't lead anywhere she phoned Elliot, only to find that he no longer worked with Olivia. Alex could hear him talking to his son, the toddler throwing an epic tantrum somewhere in the room. He managed not to answer her questions with anything real. He just muttered something about it being how things play out sometimes—that sometimes you know in your gut when it's all over. But the minute she asked, he knew where Olivia was. Even without being her partner he seemed to owe her this, the need to make sure she was ok.
"You really think this is a good idea, counselor?"
"Look, if you'd just tell her to call me…"
He let out a dry laugh. She could picture the smile on his face, a thin one that failed to hide his derision. His lips barely containing his teeth.
"Maybe you should wonder if there's a reason?" he said. "A good reason, you know, that she's not picking up the phone when you ring."
She hated him a little for being right. For the fact that she knew he was right. That her leaving like she did had ruptured something, picked apart the thread that made up the two of them. Her choice. It had been a choice.
The next step was going to Olivia's apartment. Not her workplace, no. Alex was not game to push that button. Not brave enough to force out something fragile while Olivia was bunched up in that protective work self. Alex had been to every apartment Olivia had lived in since they met. Even the time stolen from her those years ago, sucked into the Witness Protection void, hadn't made her a stranger to the layout of Olivia's place. Where she kept the spoons, the terrible instant coffee. The extra sheets and towels. The painkillers and matches. Every moment taken away from them, the moments that they couldn't be a 'them', seemed to be merely a pause. The gaps of their relationship were like breathers lingering between the inevitable 'we'. Between the shooting, the testifying, her return after Velez's death, they found their way back together. Not necessarily without a new set of problems and scars, with things that needed to be said quietly but that instead were shouted out in the heat of an argument. Things that were soothed away with a touch, with the leading of one another to the softness of Olivia's bed. The pressure of their bodies meeting, their hands and lips making it known what they really meant to each other.
She pushed the button for the elevator in Olivia's building, feeling the nerves and the irritation and the fears simmering inside her, battling it out. She didn't want to do this, but she placed each foot in front of the other and made her way there.
Olivia didn't open the door of course. That would have been far too simple. Sighing, Alex stood there and waited, feeling the minutes tick by after every knock she gave.
"Olivia," she called. She cleared her throat but the words didn't come out firm. Didn't come out confident. "Please?"
There was still nothing. She stood very still, pressing her face to the cool wood, the smooth paint.
"I know you're in there, I made sure of it."
There was a sound. Movement. Footsteps that weren't trying to hide themselves. She could easily picture their owner.
When the door jolted back, Alex almost lost her footing.
"I know," Olivia had her arms crossed. Sweats and a hoodie and a tired expression. "El called to warn me."
Alex frowned.
"You make me sound like some kind of cyclone or natural disaster."
Olivia didn't comment on that, and Alex felt her annoyance drop, because who the hell did she even think she was? Standing there on a Wednesday night, staring past Olivia to the interior of the apartment she'd slept countless nights in. Hoping. Expecting. Waiting to be let in.
"Well, welcome back," Olivia said flatly. "For however long it's gonna be this time."
"Olivia, if you'd just let me…"
"I want you to stop," Olivia said. "Stop calling me."
"No," she said, not as a statement, but as a plea. "No."
"I just… " Olivia's voice wavered "I don't think I can do this again."
"Olivia."
"I'm not a fucking dog you can leave in a kennel when you go on vacation, Alex."
"I was working with rape victims in the Congo. That's hardly—"
"Save your speech. This isn't your court room."
"I know." Alex said, and she swallowed. "I'm sorry." She shook her head, clenched her jaw. But she had no choice in the matter. Because there she was, crying, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She hunched over, trying to wipe them away with shaking hands. The strength of her sobs surprised her, embarrassed her. What made it worse was Olivia just standing there watching. Not moving. Not speaking. Not offering anything but the promise that came with an open door. With the fact that she was still there. After a few minutes, Alex risked a glance at her and was surprised by the look of tenderness on Olivia's face. She couldn't tell if Olivia hesitated, because her eyes became blurry all over again. And suddenly Olivia had a hand on her arm, guiding her carefully inside as if she was something precious. Breakable. They sat on Olivia's couch, the cushions making the same vague squeak. The fabric just as rough to the touch as the last time Alex had been there a year ago. She was still shaking, her uneven breaths making her feel pathetic. Desperate, even.
"You aren't fair," Olivia said. Her voice was low, and she didn't meet Alex's eyes.
"I know."
"What do you expect me to say, after all of this?"
"I don't know," Alex admitted. She tried to feel brave, rather than hopeless. "I want you."
Olivia didn't say anything. And Alex felt the pang then, the fear that maybe none of this, nothing they felt or thought or wanted would fix this. Would ever be enough.
"I made the wrong call," Alex said, trying to say something, prove something, offer something up even if it was simply for Olivia to dash it against the wall. "It should have been you, Olivia."
"And next time? The time after?"
"Please," Alex said then. "Don't make me beg. Please don't."
Olivia's eyes were glassy, but she wasn't crying. She was clenching her jaw, closing her eyes as if in an effort to stop it, to stop Alex from pushing through. Like a virus. A battering ram. An unwelcome thing that would do nothing kind with her. Alex realized it then, that being let in was a gift she probably didn't deserve anymore. But Olivia wasn't speaking, wasn't moving, and she couldn't just leave this. She wouldn't. Steeling herself, she pushed closer, taking a breath as she placed a hand on Olivia's shoulder, as she pressed her lips to Olivia's. It was barely a touch, more of a question than a kiss. Then another, with a little more behind it. Olivia responded with a muttered sigh that may have been a reprimand, may have been an obscenity, but which led her to pull Alex into her arms, deepening the kiss roughly. Forcefully. Alex couldn't stop the moan that came out of her mouth. Couldn't stop her hands from gripping Olivia's back like she was afraid of ever having to let go.
And even when they had stopped, pulling apart to finally breathe, they didn't fully pull away. Alex rested her head against Olivia's chest, feeling Olivia's deep sigh reverberate through her. Soothe her. And maybe this wouldn't work. Maybe they weren't going to be ok. Maybe this would lead to another night, another morning, another week with mistakes. Broken promises, shouts and tears and accusations. But Alex wasn't going anywhere this time. She didn't care what it took. She would bear the cost.