Cragen returns her text message with a phone call at midnight. He's out of breath and she wonders if he ran up to the ceiling to have this conversation with her.
"You found her?"
"Yeah, she's okay. She's asleep, or passed out or something."
"She's okay?"
"Yeah, Don, she's okay. I'll tell her to call you in the morning."
"She's meeting with IAB at noon."
"How's Elliot?"
"Packed up his desk. Answered all the questions they asked him. Went home."
"He didn't say goodbye to her."
"I know."
"I uh, I think I'm going to go to bed. I'll drop by tomorrow."
His 'thank you' rolls into her ear so full she thinks he might be on the verge of tears. Olivia is asleep in her bed, wet hair covering half her face, knees tucked to her chest. She let Alex wash her, staring full eyed and shaking while Alex scrubbed the blood from under her fingernails, lathered shampoo into her hair, pink swirling down the drain. She hadn't said a word until Alex turned off the tap and wrapped the woman in a towel, and even then, a whispered thank you was all she was given. Olivia looks at her like a ghost, Alex thinks, and maybe she is a ghost. Maybe Olivia won't be there in the morning to ask her how she ended up in bed, fully clothed, with her former, and now present, coworker.
Olivia is there when she wakes up, fully clothed, sitting on the kitchen counter talking to Cragen. The coffee is already brewed. Olivia has found the fruit loops. The phone conversation is filled from Olivia's side with "I'm fines" and "Yes, I'm staying" and "how's Elliot" and "what do you mean?" This takes ten minutes. Alex doesn't know what to do in her own kitchen with Olivia there eating her cereal and drinking her coffee. Finally, "I'll be there," and the phone is put away. Olivia, on her counter, eating cereal, is cute. She isn't supposed to be cute, Alex thinks, she is supposed to be sad and shaken and not as kissable as she is now. Oh, Alex wants to kiss her. It could be so easy.
"Hi Alex,"
She swallows. Olivia looks okay. She looks good. She isn't crying or trembling or yelling. She's looking at Alex, who is scratching her head.
"Hi."
"I uh. Wow. Yesterday was really fucked up."
"So I hear."
Olivia is bouncing her leg off the counter. It's annoying, endearing. Alex sighs, pours a cup of coffee. Olivia's hand rests on top of hers just as she is putting the pot onto the carafe.
"Thank you. I was a mess. I don't know why that happened. You didn't have to do that."
"I know. I wanted to."
"I missed you."
She missed her too. Washington was all red tape and stalling. She would sit through meetings that dragged on for monotonous hours and imagine Olivia running the show, throwing staff left and right all over the Congo to rescue the oppressed. Months and months of loneliness for nothing, except to be missed.
"I missed you too."
"Was it worth it?"
"Not really, no."
"Why do you eat fruit loops, counselor?"
Olivia is smiling. Smiling. Alex is smiling too. She finds this bizarre, that hell has broken loose and they are in her kitchen, smiling at each other. Olivia has a hangover and she is dog-tired and they look like stupid idiots smiling at the apocalypse outside their window. Or what should have been.
"Are you okay Olivia?"
"No. But I will be."
"Cragen said Elliot already-"
"I know. It's okay."
"But he's-"
"He's going to need some time Alex. Maybe forever. It's alright."
"But from you?"
"Especially from me. He shouldn't have had to take that shot."
"You couldn't have-"
"It doesn't matter."
Olivia is looking at her, and Alex marvels at this, the normality, the ease. This could be easy, normal.
"You're going to be okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah. I'll be fine, Alex. It happened. Now it's time to pick up the pieces."
This version of Olivia, kitchen Olivia, is shocking and perfect and giving her a look so kind and calm that Alex's fingers are twitching with confusion. And then she kisses her, just like that, her jumping fingers jump to Olivia's face and then there are lips and questions in those lips and answers that say maybe this could mean things don't have to be so complicated.
