Title: when I reach for you there's just a supercut
Pairing: Alex Cabot/Olivia Benson
Rating: G
Summary: (Marvel crossover – major spoilers for Avengers Endgame) Set five years after the Snap, Alex is running a support group for survivors.
"I spent a long time blaming the Avengers, hating them for not being able to stop…him. And then one morning, maybe three years ago, I woke up and I didn't feel that roiling in my stomach anymore, that sick, bitter feeling was just gone. I guess I had just realized that I couldn't blame them anymore for something that really was so far beyond their control. I lost the love of my life, I lost my son; I can't move on, but I can try to move forward. We all can." Alex looks up from her folded hands, leaning back in her metal folding chair.
The other members of this Survivors of the Decimation support group are watching her, waiting. She's been the leader of their group for more than a year now and they know that she'll signal when she's done speaking, so this lack of one means she still has something more to say.
Alex sighs heavily, rubbing at tired eyes. "I was supposed to buy milk," she says, "that day. On the way home from work. I was supposed to buy milk and I forgot. And then half the world turned to ash. And I know – I know – the two don't correlate, but sometimes I wonder, you know? If I had just remembered to stop, maybe that would've set in motion some cosmic event and the Avengers would have won." She wipes angrily at the tears that have started to fall. "But it's like I said we have to try to move forward." The woman sitting to her right, Yara, reaches over and squeezes Alex's knee. "So, does anyone feel like sharing today?"
A girl of about 16 raises her hand; Alex nods to her. "I'm Emily," she says. "This is my first time here." She looks down at her hands, picks at her nails. "I lost my parents in the, um, event. We were on the highway and my mom was driving when she turned to ash and my dad couldn't get the car stopped in time. He died when the car hit a tractor trailer." She pushes her hair back behind her ear. "I miss them every day, but it hasn't been all bad, I guess. My aunt has a pretty cool apartment here in the city and I have friends at school, so…" she offers the group a small smile "moving forward, right?"
"Moving forward," Alex echoes. "Anyone else? Maggie, Zoe, you both had dates this week. Do either of you want to talk about them?"
Maggie, a white-haired 60-year-old, is originally from the Midwest. She moved out to New York City just days after the snap to be with her daughter, who had lost her wife, and grandson. She heaves a heavy sigh. "He was kind," she says, "sweet, asked me questions about my life before all this, listened when I spoke about my family. He was an accountant before, but now he does what he can at the farms." She chuckles a bit mirthlessly.
"Are you going to see him again?" Alex asks.
"No," Maggie says. "No, I don't think so. When my Arthur was taken, we had been married for 32 years. I'm not quite ready to give up hope on him yet."
"You deserve to be happy, Maggie."
"We all deserve to be happy, Alex. That includes you.
Alex feels her ears go fire engine red; she preaches a lot about needing to move forward with their lives, but she's the only one in the survivors' group who hasn't actually made any steps to move forward. All of Olivia's belongings remain where they've always been – her clothes in the closet, a brand-new toothbrush waiting for her in the holder, her favorite coffee mug on the shelf. Noah's bed is made, his favorite toy sitting on his pillow, the book he likes to read before bed on his table. The apartment remains exactly as it was five years ago, just quieter.
She sighs. "We're not talking about me, Maggie. I'm fine. I'm…moving forward."
Yara scoffs. "That's bullshit," she says. "Every week you tell us the same story about the milk. I've must've heard that story about 18 times by now. Zoe and Maia were here first, they've probably heard 50 times. We're honest with you, Alex. You can be honest with us."
"Fine," Alex says, "you want honesty? Here's honesty. The truth is that I'm not pursuing anything because me and Olivia we're inevitable. No matter what happens, we're always going to end up back together. And I know that because that's what's happened time and time again. We met and fell in love. I almost died and went into witness protection. I came back and then left and then came back and left and again and again and then we were pushed together again, but this time Olivia had a son. It's been a 23-year saga; I'm not going to give up just yet."
And then, before anyone can respond, like something out of a movie, all their phones start ringing.
Alex jumps up, backing away from the group so hastily she almost knocks her chair over. She pulls her phone out of the pocket of her jeans and stares down at the screen. It's Olivia's contact picture she programmed years ago – they were at the beach and the sun was setting behind them and Olivia looked so beautiful with her windswept hair and sun-kissed skin; Alex just had to nab a picture.
She swipes to answer the call hesitantly, very nearly missing it. "Olivia?"
"Alex?" Olivia's voice comes through the speaker so clearly it brings tears to Alex's eyes. "Honey, hey! Did I leave my phone at home this morning? I can't seem to find it anywhere. I've checked every drawer of my desk, my coat, my pants. It's just not here."
Alex blinks, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, but no words seem to come. "I–"
"Can you check really quick? I'll be heading home soon–"
"Liv," Alex says, unsuccessfully trying to cut her off
"–but I want to make sure I didn't lose it somewhere. That would be the last–" Olivia stop short as Alex finally gets a word in.
"Olivia, can you please just listen to me for a minute?"
"Yeah, Al. What's up? What's wrong? Did something happen to Noah?"
"No, I just…I miss you."
Olivia laughs. "You saw me a few hours ago."
"Yeah," Alex says, looking back at the group. They're all talking hurriedly into their phones, tears in their eyes. She turns away again, giving them some semblance of privacy. "A few hours ago." She pushes her hand through her hair. "Listen, I'll pick up Noah and I'll see you at home in an hour."
"Sounds good," Olivia says. "I love you."
"I love you too." Alex shoves her phone back into her pocket and looks back at the group. It has dwindled down to only one other woman in the room and Alex doesn't feel too bad about just bolting out the door.
Outside it is absolute pandemonium. Reunions in the streets, on the sidewalks, yelling, laughing, talking crying. It takes Alex an entire hour just to get to Noah's preschool that is only a couple blocks away.
She scoops him up into her arms when she gets to him, holding him tightly, trying to pour five years' worth of love into the embrace.
By the time they make it back to the apartment, Olivia is already home. She's curled up on the couch with the news playing. She smiles at Alex when she comes in, but Alex can see the confusion in her eyes.
Noah pulls his hand free from Alex's and scampers off into his bedroom, intent on playing with his workbench.
They wait a few minutes before speaking just to be sure Noah is really off playing in his room.
"So," Olivia begins, "the news is saying five years has passed."
Alex kicks off her sneakers and joins Olivia on the couch, curling up against her. "Yeah," she says.
"I guess that means the Avengers lost."
"They must've done something right. You're home, aren't you?"
Olivia runs her fingers through Alex's hair. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Alex says, "not tonight."
"Ok," Olivia says, pressing a kiss to the top of Alex's head. "We've got all the time in the world."
One week later, Alex takes her seat in the circle of metal chairs at the survivors group meeting. She's not sure how many people will actually show up today seeing as the Avengers were able to bring back everyone who had been dusted, but she has high hopes.
She isn't let down.
As it gets closer to their start time the seats start to fill and when the clock strikes 7:00 all of the seats in the circle are full and more chairs have been pulled up to accommodate the new attendees.
Alex takes a look at everyone, smiling, and leans back in her chair. She fiddles with the brand-new gold band on her left ring finger. "So," she says, "how was everyone's week?"
The End