-1-

As they sat in the dimly lit office listening to a tape of Velez's men discussing her jogging habits, Alex wasn't sure what scared her more: the threats being made against her and her mother, or the reactions of the three people sitting around the table with her. The look on Donovan's face in the hallway outside the courtroom told her that this was serious, even before she knew she'd been under surveillance—patterns noted, details gathered—by men intent on killing her. His concern seemed real and sincere, despite the fact that Alex could potentially ruin the case he'd spent two years of his life on.

Stabler sat to her left, listening to the tape, swearing quietly when one of the men recited Alex's address. She could tell his protective instincts had already taken over. The two of them had gone toe-to-toe on more occasions than she could recall, but they were on the same team, and Elliot's mind was already working overtime to safeguard her: establishing perimeters, assigning two-man details, sealing off entrances and exits at 235 W. 78th.

But it was Benson's reaction that was the most frightening. She moved her hand over her mouth as the disembodied voices on the tape discussed Alex, almost as if stifling a moan or a scream. The woman was fearless, and she was the most reliable barometer Alex had to gauge nearly every situation.

The squad hadn't accepted Alex until Olivia had. If the detective felt there was more to something, there always was. If she was mad at Alex, the attorney knew she'd either done something wrong, or had been too unbending in her application of the law. And, if Olivia was disappointed in Alex—this was the worst, and it gnawed at Alex, took a little piece of her and broke it off every time it happened—then most likely the ADA could have done more. She'd never admit how much she craved the detective's approval, and her praise. When that came, when Olivia was happy, then she knew without a doubt that she'd done a good job.

Right now, though, Olivia was scared, and if Olivia was scared then this was as serious as it got. She hated to show fear as much as Alex hated to be wrong. Alex snapped back to attention as Donovan told her that marshals would be there within an hour to escort her home.

"No, I want to go home now." She couldn't explain it. Truth be told, her apartment was not much of a home at all, just a place she hung her suits and drank her first cup of coffee every morning and slept for 4 or 5 hours every night. But she was suddenly overcome with a need to be there, alone, with marshals outside her door and no-one to see her cry. She feared she was close to her breaking point, and she had no desire to let these three cops see her come apart.

Olivia said they'd take her home, and the four of them exited the building. Donovan reassured her that they'd get this taken care of, and as he headed to his car, Olivia took advantage of a moment alone with Alex to ask the attorney to stay with her for the night, but Alex refused. This was so typical of their ADA, Olivia thought. She'd just heard someone give her address to a hit-man, and yet that was exactly where she decided she wanted to be.

But there was no time to argue before the explosion of Donovan's car had blown them both backward to the pavement. After that—after being berated by Hammond—Alex had agreed to stay at Liv's place. Olivia briefly thought that she couldn't believe it had taken a man dying to get the beautiful attorney to spend the night with her, and immediately chastised herself for the gallows humor. Elliot got the two of them to Liv's place, and both detectives cleared the apartment with weapons drawn. "Just to be on the safe side," Olivia tried to reassure Alex.

After the marshals arrived and took up a post in the hall outside Liv's door, Elliot headed home. He'd have preferred to stay, too—the thought of Alex being in danger was bad enough, but knowing that his partner was now making herself a target was even worse. He told Olivia he'd stay, call Kath and tell her what was going on, but Olivia refused his offer immediately. "I think she needs to decompress, El. Let me just settle her down and get her to sleep. You go home," she said. "There are two federal agents outside our door. We'll be fine."

She assured the marshals they were in for the night, and expecting no visitors, before she closed and locked the door behind Stabler. Turning to the living room, she was surprised to see Alex by the windows, looking out onto the street. "Alex," Olivia said softly.

Alex turned, looking across the dark room at Olivia, who was backlit by the hall lamp. She stared at the detective, but didn't say anything.

"Al, maybe not by the window?" Olivia was being overprotective—paranoid, even—but she couldn't help it. She knew her ADA was tough, and brave, but right now she seemed utterly defenseless, and Olivia wanted nothing more than to hold her, wrap her up until this was all over, and take her to the safest place on earth. Wherever the hell that was.

Alex looked at her quizzically, but moved away from the window and sat down in the chair by the bookcase. All of her usual swagger and strut was gone—she seemed small and frightened, and confused.

This was all so alien to her—Alex had never been inside her apartment, despite the fact that they'd socialized, even striking up a friendship outside of work. In all honesty, Olivia hadn't trusted herself to have Alex over. Her feelings for the attorney were far more than friendly, and she was afraid she might ruin the friendship, and their working relationship, by admitting that.

But they were friends, and Alex needed someone—something—right now, and Olivia knew that. It was why she had wanted Alex here with her. She knew the marshals could protect her, but she didn't think they'd be much comfort to her. She wasn't sure she would, either, but she was going to try. She walked across the room and knelt on the floor in front of the chair, putting both hands on Alex's knees.

"Everything's going to be okay, Alex," she assured.

"I don't know," Alex answered, the first words she'd spoken since they'd gotten here.

"I do," the detective replied. "You're safe, and it will be alright." Alex just shook her head, and didn't answer, but she did put her hands over Olivia's, and leaned over until their foreheads were touching. She took a ragged breath, seemed to be trying to decide if she should hold in the tears that had to be there, or let them out. Olivia said nothing, didn't move, determined to just be here for Alex, do whatever was needed.

After a moment, Alex sighed, and her breathing had evened out. She'd clearly decided to hold it in, and get on with it, for now at least. She sat up, and looked at Olivia. "Thanks," she said. "For everything. I'm sorry to be an imposition."

"Never," Olivia said. "It's no imposition at all. I feel better having you here with me." And it was true. Even under awful circumstances, she always felt better when she was breathing the same air as Alex.

"I should let you get some sleep," Alex said. "If you've got a blanket and a pillow, I'll bunk down here on the sofa."

"Hold up," Olivia said. "First, I think you'll feel better if you take a shower, and I'll grab a t-shirt and shorts for you to sleep in. Then, you'll take the bed."

"I couldn't..." Alex began.

"You will," Olivia said, and her tone offered no room for rebuttal. She stood and offered a hand to Alex to help her up. "Now, come on and I'll grab you a towel and whatever else you'll need."