A/N: Olivia's POV. Please review, it means everything and doesn't take you very long. Enjoy!
This is what I always do. I leave the house, and I go to Bobby's, a small bar near my apartment. Usually, I'd just pick up a six pack and stay home, but today is one of those days. One of those days, usually after a hard case like this one, where I am stuck contemplating all of my mistakes, all of my fears, and my very purpose in this world.
It was a hard case. We were on it for weeks. Two junior high students were raped and killed by two other classmates. They were all just fourteen, they all had everything to live for, but that's all gone now. The girls' funerals were last week. Elliot and I went. We stood in the back and watched, but we slipped out before they were over. Both of the boys had been tried, both were found guilty of both rapes and murders, but since they're minors, they were sentenced to the minimum, one year for each rape and fifteen for each murder. They'll be out when they're forty-five, if they survive prison.
I order another beer just as I finish the first one. Usually, I'd be flirting with the bartender or doing something else productive, but today is one of those days.
Why am I so affected by these cases? No one else is. I joined SVU to change people's lives, I had no idea how much it would change mine. It's like every case takes a part of me. Every victim whose hand I hold becomes a part of me, I feel their pain. It affects me because I know what it's like. No, I don't know what it's like to be raped, but I do know what it's like to feel alone, abandoned, and scared. The whole time I was growing up I was scared. Scared of what would happen tomorrow, scared of my mother, of what she could do next. I know what it's like to be scared that you'll run into him on the street.
As the bitter recollections of my past cross my mind, I down the rest of my beer and order another. I don't usually drink, but today is one of those days.
Why is it always me? Why am I the one who has always had her life shattered, and is left alone to pick up the pieces? This happens every time. Every time a case hits too close to home, I lose it. I don't think anyone knows. They always ask if I'm ok, I say I am, because I will be eventually. He knows better, though. When he looks at me, with his stunning blue eyes filled with worry and curiosity, I know I can't lie to him. I tell him I'll be ok. Sometimes he believes me, but sometimes he takes me aside just as I'm leaving the house to come here, and he makes me talk. I melt under his smoldering stare and tell him everything. I would be lost without him, but of course I would never admit that. He's a good friend, I'm lucky to have him.
I smile and run my finger over the rim of my glass a few times before I finally pick it up and finish the last sip. The bartender places another glass in front of me before I can ask for it. I take a sip, but I can't feel it running down my throat. This is the point when I usually stop, but today is one of those days.
I wish I knew what good I am supposed to do in the world. No matter how many criminals I put behind bars, I can never get them all. There will always be that one that I didn't get, that victim I couldn't save. There aren't enough cops in the world to get every criminal. Every time we catch one, another one commits another crime. What good am I doing? Any idiot could catch the bad guys, what makes us so special?
"Dedication." I remembered one of my instructors at the academy yelling that over and over. "Dedication makes a good cop. Dedication is the difference between New York's finest, and every other guy in the street. You have to put your soul, your heart, into your work. It has to be your life. That's what makes a good cop." If that's all it takes, I should be the best damn cop in the world.
The academy, those were good days. I smile and reminisce as I silently wave to the bartender for another beer. He brings it to me and watches me.
"Don't you think you've had enough, Liv?"
"Probably," I say as I take a sip. I set the glass down, and he throws up his hands in defeat. He's right, of course. I've been sitting here all night. But today is one of those days.
One day, when I'm older and married with children and the perfect life that I dream about, I will remember these days. The days where I am so hurt and confused that I just want to crawl into a hole and die. I'll think about the beers I drank to block out memories. Then I'll think about the memories themselves. I'll think about every defining day in my life, every day that helped me become who I am now. I'll be the first to admit that I've had a hard life, but I don't regret a day of it. I don't believe in regrets. I can't go back and change anything, so I shouldn't think about it. Even if I could, I wouldn't want to. Every single day, every triumph, every challenge, every tear has made me who I am.
Usually after a realization like this, I would leave, but I think I need one more. Today is just one of those days.
End