Wednesday

May 7, 2014

Olivia lightly gripped the steering wheel in her hands as she sat at a red light, staring at the glowing red balled display, pondering the day. The end didn't justify the means. They had him and he had gotten away scot-free. One of the worst parts of her job was watching criminals walk away because of lack of evidence. It was a reality though and had to be dealt with emotionally when and if it came along.

Just before she had left for the day, Nick had asked her if she wanted to talk about it. It wasn't like they were exceptionally close. They had gotten slightly closer in the time that he had been there. In this particular career, how can one not?

But the only person she wanted to talk to about the conclusion of this particular case to was her wife, who was currently making sure the kids' needs were met and making dinner at home—where she wanted to be so desperately at that moment.

But she had one more stop before she could do that.

Her iPhone rang on the cradle holder in front of the air vent. She looked at her phone quickly and saw it was her wife. She tapped the green, circular icon and smiled. "Hey, Al."

"Hey Liv. Almost home?"

"About fifteen minutes away. But I have to make one more stop."

"OK. Tonight you relax, my love. I made dinner. The kids are bathed. All you have to do is accept the glass I hand you when you come in, change into something comfortable, and let me take care of you."

"Sounds wonderful, Alex. Really does." Olivia took a right on fifty-second street now. "Tomorrow's kind of busy, Babe. Grace's karate class is at three-thirty and Theo's got that dentist appointment tomorrow at four. After Theo and Izzie and I drop Grace off, we'll run by the ballet store for Izzie's tights. Then we'll take him to the dentist, then go get Gracie, and then we'll be on our way home. OK, Babe?"

"OK, Liv. Dinner is almost ready. I'm stirring the parmesan polenta right now."

"Mmmm, sounds delicious, Al."

"And it was really sweet of you to volunteer to keep taking Mrs. Pappamichalis her groceries once a week and check on her."

Olivia could hear the kids in the background, talking and laughing and, most likely, running. She smiled as she imagined the scene of her wife cooking while the kids blew off some steam and spent time with each other.

"It's the least I could do, Alex, especially after what her own son-in-law did to her." Olivia pulled up to the brownstone and moved ahead of the empty space in order to parallel park.

"Well, she really took to you, Liv and that's special considering she had gotten to the point that she didn't trust anyone anymore."

"I just did my job, Alex. That's all."

"My bad ass with the good ass always just does her job."

Olivia could hear her wife smile through the phone.

She backed into the space and then pulled forward before putting her tiny Datsun into park. "I'm here, Babe. I'm just gonna drop these off, see if she needs anything else, and I'll be on my way. She's usually sleeping when I go in there anyway." Olivia took the car keys from the ignition and then eyed the white, plastic grocery bag to her right in the passenger seat.

"OK, Liv. Be careful. I'll see you soon…"

"OK, Babe. I love you."

"I love you, too, Liv…come home safe and sound." Alex disconnected the call and Olivia pressed the red, end call button on her phone on the holder before taking it from the cradle completely.

She reached over for the bag and set it into her lap before pulling on the handle, letting herself out, and beginning to walk towards the steps.

Mrs. Tina Papamichalis was a woman in her eighties. Special Victims had just closed a case in tandem with Haven House and the brunette had become close with the elderly woman. During the course of the investigation and trial, Mrs. Papamichalis had taken to Olivia, even going so far as to tell her she wished she had a daughter like her on several occasions. It made the brunette feel good to know that she felt like she could trust someone after all that she had been through.

Olivia reached into her dark gray blazer pocket with her right hand, the bag shifted onto her left wrist as she ascended the steps. She smiled as she thought of how exhausted Alex sounded, how cute she must have looked relaxed for the evening, cooking dinner as the kids ran around.

She approached the last step and eyed the door that was flanked with windows, noting that the light coming from either side was dim, almost dark. She knew that Mrs. Papamichalis often watched TV in her bedroom in the evenings and, being eight o'clock, the brunette knew this was probably the case, yet again this evening.

She inserted the key into the lock and turned it, pushing the door open and then flipping the light switch on with her same hand. She entered and approached the kitchen counter, hearing the faint murmur of the TV in the bedroom and smiling—soft but there—and then she dropped her keys and the bag on the counter, and then took the phone from her pocket and set it on the counter, as well, before beginning to remove the groceries—a carton of eggs...

A noise. A low clearing of the throat? A slight grumble? Definitely low in timbre.

She stopped in her tracks and listened, cocking her head to the side, her left thumb and forefinger moving to each other in a circular motion, intently attempting to listen in anticipation of any future movement she might have to make.

She began stepping to her right cautiously toward the deep sound as well as the sounds coming from further down the hallway.

"Hello?" She stepped closer now, listening. "Hello?"

And then his face appeared out of nowhere—that smirking smile, his pistol pointed directly in between her eyes. She briefly glanced to her right as she felt her heart rate begin to increase, her breath coming out in quiet, short bursts, thinking, as his eyes followed a line downward from her face along her neck and then her chest, his gaze becoming intense. He let the tip of the gun run along the left side of her jaw now before running along her neck, moving her hair slightly aside.

Grab the gun! she thought. Grab it and get it from him!

Alex. Theo. Grace. Isabel.

Their faces popped into her head for only a split second before she found her right arm grabbed and her own body forced into his, the weapon on her hip quickly dislodged and taken with his left hand.

And in that brief moment she knew, without a doubt, that something only drawn up from the dark depths of her nightmares was about to happen.

She felt it within every fiber of her being.

A/N: This is my take on what if Alex and Olivia had been together, married for eight years. The William Lewis saga began in May, 2014, so the kids would have been 4 and 3. This will be a chapter by chapter story. Some might be shorter and some might be longer. I hope you enjoy and, as always, I would love to hear from you.