Title: Lullaby

Pairing: Alex Cabot/Olivia Benson

Rating: K+

Author's Note: These characters aren't mine. If they were, things would be different, and I wouldn't have to worry about paying for college. They belong to Dick Wolf and NBC. Do I have that right? Anyways, the only things I own are almost a dozen textbooks, a box of old candy canes, and a laptop I got for my birthday.

Author's Note 2: This is a one-shot based on the song "Lullaby" by Shawn Mullins. I don't own him or this song.


"Tell me where she is," Olivia yells, grabbing the Marshal by his tie and slamming him into the nearest wall.

"Detective Benson, this is assault of a federal agent," the Marshal says with noticeable fear in his voice. If she wasn't so concerned with finding Alex, she might feel sorry for the kid.

Instead, she releases her grip on his tie, but keeps him cornered. "Tell me where she is."

"You know I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Protocol."

"Do I look like I give a damn about your protocol? Tell me where my girlfriend is or I'll make sure they never find your body."

With a noticeable gulp, the Marshal points to a filing cabinet across the room. Olivia backs away from him, watching his every move, and opens the filing cabinet. She finds Alex's folder quickly, copies down the address, and runs to her car. She pulls out her phone, dials Cragen's number, and waits for him to answer.

"Cragen. Special Victims Unit."

"Cap, it's Liv."

"It's after six. Is something wrong?"

"No," she says, squeezing the bridge of her nose. "Actually, yeah. I need to take a couple days."

"Is this because of Alex?"

"Actually, Cap, are you still at the precinct?"

"Yeah."

"Can I come by to talk to you?"

"Of course, Liv."

"Okay. Thanks. I'll be there soon." She hangs up the phone and drives to the precinct."

Captain Don Cragen is sitting at his desk in his office when Olivia enters the squadroom. He looks up from his paperwork when she knocks on his door.

"Come in."

"Cap," Olivia says, unclipping her gun and her badge from her belt. "I'm leaving." She sets the gun and badge on his desk.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know. I just have to get away from here for a while. There are too many memories."

"Liv, her funeral was less than a month ago. You can't expect to heal that fast."

"That's why I'm leaving. I can't heal here."

"Do what you need to do. Your spot will be here when you get back."

"Thanks, Cap."

"But you have to tell Elliot. He deserves to know."

"I'll call him in the morning."

"I mean it, Olivia."

"I know, Cap. I'll call him. I promise."

"Okay. Take care of yourself, Liv."

"I will, Captain. See you soon."

Alex Cabot sits in The Bar on West Dayton Street in Madison, Wisconsin, slowly sipping some "girly drink", as Olivia would call it, as she glances around the dimply lit room.

On a stool at the far end of the bar, a man in a hat plays the guitar. Alex notices the tune as that of Olivia's favorite song. She quickly orders herself another drink, something stronger this time, and tries to relax into her chair.

At half past eleven, she gathers her belongings and walks the twenty-five minutes back to her house. The cool October air bites at her legs, causing her to pull her long jacket tighter around herself. Every few seconds, she glances behind her, just to be sure no one is following her. Once or twice she's sure she sees a certain brunette detective, but she passes it off as wishful thinking.

Once safely inside her house, Alex changes into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt she stealthily took from Olivia just two months prior, and curls up on the couch in front of the fireplace with a glass of hot chocolate and a throw blanket that smells like Olivia's apartment.

**(the next night)**

Alex strides into The Bar, orders one of Olivia's favorite beers, and settles into a chair as far away from the door as she possibly can. She doesn't look up from her bottle when the door chimes, signaling another patron entering the bar.

Olivia Benson scans the room, looking for any sign of the gorgeous blonde she had followed in there. Finally, she sees her in a chair at the back of the room, her gaze focused on the bottle in her hand. Olivia smiles at the sight and makes her way to the man with the guitar at the far end of the bar. She explains to him that she's trying to win back her girlfriend and asks if he would mind letting her use his guitar to do so. The man, needing a break and a drink anyways, hands her the guitar, and tells her to take her time and win back her girl. She smiles, gets herself situated with the guitar, and starts the familiar melody that reminds her so much of Alex.

Alex closes her eyes as the song starts, the tune bringing back the memory of Olivia holding her and quietly singing the song to her after the Cheryl Avery case had gone so horribly wrong.

"She grew up with the children of the stars in the Hollywood hills and the Boulevard. Her parents threw big parties; everyone was there. They hung out with folks like Dennis Hopper, Bob Seger, and Sonny and Cher."

Alex looks up from her bottle at the voice, hoping-no, praying-it's not her mind playing tricks on her.

"She feels safe now in the bar on Fairfax. And from the stage I can tell that she can't let go and she can't relax. And just before she hangs her head to cry, I sing to her a lullaby. I sing, 'Everything's gonna be all right. Rockabye, rockabye. Everything's gonna be all right. Rockabye, rockabye. Rockabye."

Alex looks toward the stage in time to make eye contact with Olivia. Olivia gives Alex a little nod before looking back down at the floor.

"She still lives with her mom outside the city, down the street about a half a mile. And all her friends tell her she's so pretty, but she'd be a whole lot prettier if she smiled once in a while 'cause ever her smile looks like a frown. She's seen her share of devils in this angel town. Everything's gonna be all right. Rockabye, rockabye. Everything's gonna be all right. Rockabye, rockabye. Rockabye."

Alex continues to watch Olivia on the stage, a smile tugging at her lips.

"I told her, 'I ain't so sure about this place. It's hard to play a gig in this town, and keep a straight face. Seems like everybody's got a plan; it's kind of like Nashville with a tan. Everything's gonna be all right. Rockabye, rockabye. Everything's gonna be all right. Rockabye, rockabye. Everything's gonna be all right. Rockabye, rockabye. Everything's gonna be all right. Rockabye, rockabye. Everything's gonna be all right. Rockabye, rockabye. Everything's gonna be all right. Rockabye, rockabye. Everything's gonna be all right. Rockabye, rockabye, rockabye. Bye, bye. Bye, bye."

Olivia barely has time to set down the guitar before Alex is in her arms, holding her, kissing her. To Olivia, it feels like a dream. Can you imagine being told you may never get to see the person you love again, and then holding them in your arms less than a month later?

Olivia doesn't feel herself being pulled out of The Bar by Alex. She doesn't notice the twenty-five minute walk to Alex's house. The first time she comes back down to Earth is when Alex lets go of her hand to open the door and lead them inside. They sit down on the couch, not once taking their eyes off one another.

Finally, Alex breaks the silence. "Stay with me tonight," she says, her voice quavering. "We can deal with the repercussions in the morning."

Olivia leans in and gives Alex a quick kiss. "I wouldn't dream of leaving."


Author's Note 3: I took a lot of liberties with this story. I know Olivia would (probably) never assault a federal agent even if she was pissed beyond belief. I know the Federal Marshals wouldn't keep Witness Information in a file cabinet that anyone could get to. Also, in my mind, Olivia can sing and play the guitar, and she sings to Alex on a daily basis. The Bar is actually a real place in Madison, Wisconsin. I've looked at its website. I chose this place because it seemed classy like Alex. I have no clue if they do live music though so that's my own creation.