Disclaimer: Don't own the characters. Don't own the show. If I did, don't you think I'd be doing better things with my time than slaving away at uni?
A/N: I'm feeling more than slightly dead with this little cold I have here, so in my fever induced state I decided to write this story because let's face it; there aren't enough Alex stories out there! I think I also did it to try to console myself after missing a law lecture at uni today because of this freaking cold that really seems to be progressing into something more. Damn low immune systems. If I wasn't feeling a bit queasy, I'd eat a garlic raw to kick this illness in the butt. Maybe. Or maybe it would be too disgusting.
ANYWAY, I'm not expecting many reviews because this story isn't about Olivia getting raped/stalked and/or hooking up with Elliot so prove me wrong, people! (Btw, I am all for those stories, believe it or not. Especially the hooking up with Elliot ones. But we just need diversity.)
...
Alexandra Cabot knew that there was something wrong when she got through a whole month without fatigue affecting her work for that dreaded week. Her life was so concerned with regimen and control, so planned and detailed, that she always grumbled through that week where she lost control to cramps, tiredness and a lack of concentration. She normally approached that week so aware and full of dread that she sat up with a start in bed when she realised she had been in complete control for what was now almost five weeks.
"No," Alex whispered, a coldness seeping through her body as a million and one thoughts raced through her mind. Pregnant…she couldn't be. Could she? What else could explain this? She'd have to keep it. She didn't believe in abortion. But oh, God-her job, her perfectly controlled life! A baby would tear that apart! A baby…a little person to love, someone to come home to each night…
Alex gasped in response to the clump of thoughts, unable to think anything or see anything clearly. It was not definite, she told herself. Maybe this was just a pregnancy scare. There was no cold, hard proof yet that she was. No positive test, no doctor's confirmation. She forced all thoughts from her mind and fell back on her pillow, listening to the faint sounds of New York creeping in through her window. Horns blared, cars drove past. The outside world had no idea what had just happened in this one apartment where Alex lay, trying to numb herself to the reality of the unpredictable world.
...
It was the first time Alex could remember having trouble saying what she wanted.
"What would you like?" the lady at the counter repeated slowly, staring at Alex as if she were dumb. If one thing could spur Alex into action, it was misconceptions.
"I would like a pregnancy test. Please."
She quickly paid and left, hiding her package as she stalked back to her apartment. Oh, God…if the test was positive, she'd have another package of sorts-and one that couldn't be hidden so easily, either.
Once she'd taken the test, she couldn't stay in her bathroom to wait for the results. The small room, the white, tiled floors, the blue walls, the mirrors-she felt trapped in there, unable to escape from the room or herself.
Breathing heavily she grabbed the door, throwing it open. She headed for the nearest window, resting her head against the cool glass as she stared at the city. For some reason, just looking at New York had always been able to comfort her: no matter what happened, these tall buildings surrounding her always remained. Alex could look at the city, knowing that it was just a bit safer for every criminal she convicted.
She didn't know when the three minutes were up and she didn't particularly care, either. Alex remained standing at the window until the city's calming effects had given her the courage she needed to face the results.
As soon as the courage had come, Alex quickly paced into the bathroom, trying to convince herself that the answer to this question was really no different to finding out a verdict in court. Was she guilty or not guilty? Alex took a deep breath and picked up the test. She was guilty. Those two little lines proved it beyond reasonable doubt. And she knew it all along.
As a general rule, Alex tried not to do many things: drink too much coffee, go to bed too late, watch America's Next Top Model and pity herself. But just as nature always seemed to dictate she be unable to sleep until one in the morning and just as fate always seemed to have it that she'd always turn the TV on at the wrong moment, her body instructed she respond to this by doing the two things she tried to avoid most of all. She was able to pull her hair back just before the toilet bowl met her breakfast, her body shaking as she threw up for the first time in eight years. And as she leaned back against the wall afterwards, the repulsive aftertaste still in her mouth, one hot tear after the other slid down her cheeks, her body shaking again as the silent tears crescendoed into sobs. Alexandra Cabot, the sobbing mess on the floor, was guilty of loosing control.
...
"What do you think, councillor?" Captain Cragen asked Alex. "Do we have enough for a search warrant?"
Alex skimmed over the facts in her head, nodding. "Plenty."
Elliot and Olivia walked out of the interviewing room as Alex delivered her assessment.
"Bastard should fry for what he's done," Elliot muttered.
"Hopefully the search warrant will bring enough evidence for a life sentence in Rikers," Alex said.
The three of them made their way into the squad room while Cragen went in to tell Mr Harlford that for the time being, he was free to go.
"Anyone else want coffee?" Olivia asked while pouring herself some. "Elliot? Alex?"
As the strong smell of coffee drifted across, Alex frowned as her mouth became dry and her stomach somersaulted. She felt unnervingly like she had yesterday, when she read the results in her bathroom.
"Alex?" Olivia repeated.
Alex swallowed hard, trying to push down the rising nausea. Not here, she tried to tell herself, not now. "I think I'd better…get your search warrant…"
Her voice weakened with each word and Alex quickly turned on her heels, almost running out of the squad room. She had to get away from that smell-it turned her stomach even thinking of it.
She sought support from the nearest wall she could find, leaning against it and breathing heavily. The nausea was still there. Maybe, Alex thought, slumping forwards slightly, maybe if I close my eyes it will all go away.
No sooner had she closed her eyes than she felt a hand clamp around her arm in support.
"Are you okay?" a gruff voice asked.
Alex looked up into the cold eyes of Aaron Harlford, whom she'd spent the last half hour listening to the detectives question. She'd heard what he'd allegedly done-preying on vulnerable women, wining and dining them, showering them with expensive presents only to rape them and then watch them die after he'd cut off their limbs. She cursed the fact that there wasn't enough at this stage to arrest him, desperately wishing he was far away from her, behind bars.
"I'm fine," Alex said with as much strength as she could muster, shaking off his unwelcome hand with a glare.
"You look like you could use some fresh air," Aaron said with what Alex guessed what meant to be a charming smile.
"You look like you should be reminded of why you're here," Alex quipped, trying to ignore another crashing wave of nausea. "I wouldn't go making the same mistakes again if I were you, Mr Harlford."
Aaron's face contorted with fury and shock as he grabbed Alex's arm again, this time with much more force.
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