Title: All That's Left You
Author: Ally
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Pairing: Olivia/Alex
Summary: When the body of an unidentified woman is discovered, Alex finds herself thrown back into a familiar world. But can anyone really go home again?
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me etc. etc. They are the creation of Dick Wolf and Co. and I use them without permission for entertainment purposes only. Please don't sue.
Spoilers: If you're aware of events up until the advent of "Conviction", you'll be fine.
Status: On-going
A/N: Thanks to everyone who read, and especially to those who took the time to comment, on the first chapter of this story. It's nice to know that people might be interested in reading more. I actually have the first 5 chapters fully completed (I started writing this a month ago), but am planning on posting fairly gradually to give myself a chance to stay ahead. However, real-life will begin to take over for the next couple of months, so I will probably post less frequently. But for anyone who's still reading at that point, don't worry. I have a near pathological compulsion to finish what I start, so I will finish this story - I know exactly where it's going, and I want to get there! So, um, thanks, again - and once more, any feedback is welcomed. Thank you for reading.
All That's Left You
"Long ago, it must be; I have a photograph,
Preserve your memories; they're all that's left you."
Chapter 2
Monday 3rd July 2006, 1-6 Precinct, Special Victims Unit
"We got a match on your victim."
Detective John Munch's dry tone echoed across the squad room as Benson and Stabler pushed through the heavy swing doors of the bull pen. The sun was now well and truly up and, despite Elliot's all-too-brief detour back to Queens in the early hours, he felt as exhausted as, he was increasingly noticing, his partner looked. Not that she hadn't pushed herself to extremes on the job, as long as he'd known her. But there'd been, for someone who prided themselves on knowing her as well as he did, a marked change over the last three years. And if he'd brushed aside his suspicions over the root of that change, the turn of events which had occurred just short of a month ago, was making the continuation of that habit near impossible. Not that they'd ever talked about it. Hell, no. Olivia Benson could be the poster child for keeping her own counsel at the best of times. And whilst those who had observed their partnership over their time in SVU would comment, somewhat speculatively on occasion, on the 'bond' the two detectives shared, there were some topics that he valued his life too much to even attempt to broach with her. Unless of course she gave him a wide enough opening, that is. Yet he still couldn't shake the feeling that they were all inadvertently sitting on some kind of ticking bomb, and the clock had started the moment his morning paper opened to reveal a very familiar face being welcomed back to this great city of theirs. He was also increasingly aware that, when that bomb finally went off, there was slim chance that any of them would escape the fallout.
His reverie was broken by the suddenly alert voice of the woman he'd been studying, being directed at their fellow detective.
"You got an I.D.?"
Her earlier lethargy forgotten, Detective Benson reached her desk, and the older detective hovering beside it, in three easy strides.
"Who is she?"
John Munch's eyebrows twisted into his typically sardonic expression as he eyed his colleague critically.
"I didn't say we got an I.D." Feeling Benson's eyes boring into him, he shrugged unapologetically. "We got a match."
By this time, Elliot's feet had caught up with his brain and he had crossed the room to stand beside his partner.
"What do you mean, Munch?"
There was a brief pause as the seasoned detective geared himself up for what he clearly believed was going to be, for him at least, an amusing anecdote.
"I mean, we got a match."
Picking up the pile of reports sitting haphazardly on Olivia's desk, he thumbed through them idly as he relayed his account of their content.
"Two months ago there was a raid on a jewellery store downtown." Again he paused briefly. Obviously not getting the response he was aiming for, he sighed resignedly before continuing.
"Although, I'm using the term 'raid' liberally, as this was the phrase used by our esteemed brothers…," he glanced back up at Olivia…. "and sisters, over in robbery-homicide, to describe an eighteen year old, still in his Chuck E. Cheese uniform… and name badge, I might add, armed with a kid's water pistol who walks into a low-rent store in broad daylight, and takes off with fifty bucks worth of costume jewellery."
His audience waited expectantly.
"Unfortunately for him, in his haste to leave with his unpaid treasures, he failed to take into account both the flight of stairs back down to the street, and the store's eighty year old proprietor with failing eyesight and a chronic heart condition. In his attempts to avoid the business end of a well-placed baseball bat he high-tails it out of there. The owner comes out swinging, so to speak, and in his enthusiasm loses his footing and flies down the steps hitting his head and having a fatal heart attack in the process. Our criminal mastermind panics long enough for the security camera installed the day before to take a good long look at his pretty face, before taking off. Uniforms pick him up at his apartment the next day, and he spills everything. He's currently sitting in Rikers where an earnest public defender no doubt thinks he can get the guy off, but is really just handing some rookie A.D.A. the perfect slam dunk to kick-start their illustrious trial career."
Finally taking a breath, Munch looked back up at Benson and Stabler, both wearing perfect matching expressions of impatience, barely masking a hint of amusement.
Munch cocked an eyebrow and continued.
"Oh, and the part which is actually relevant," he sighed again. "You two have no sense of whimsy, you know that right? Anyway, the security footage from the store, according to the reports, showed our guy may not have been acting alone in his feat of criminal achievement. It seems there was also a woman in the store at the same time, but the tech guys couldn't get a clear view of her. When they dusted the scene for prints, every set of his was accompanied by an unknown set. Plus there was an anonymous call about the old guy's heart attack placed to 911, and the operator I.D.'d the caller as female. Add in that none of the stolen jewellery was found when they searched the perp's apartment, and it looked like he hadn't been living their alone. There was a certain feminine touch. And the prints at the apartment matched the unknowns at the store."
The detective shrugged a final time.
"Bright, he may not be, but no-one can accuse him of a lack of chivalry. Despite what the cops and his lawyer are telling him, the guy's not rolling. But the D.A.'s office obviously figure they have enough, so cased closed. That is until I ran the prints from your victim this morning and, guess what, perfect match. Congratulations, looks like you two just found their 'Bonnie'."
With that, John Munch swiftly shoved the reports he'd been reading from into his colleague's hands.
"And thus, my work here is done."
Pushing his shirt sleeves back up over his scrawny elbows, he promptly turned to head back out of the precinct, pausing only to throw one last comment casually over his shoulder.
"Oh, and Olivia, you may want to try actually sleeping at some point. You're starting to look like crap, sweetheart."
And with that, he was gone.
Giving his partner a minute to glare in Munch's wake, Elliot silently took the reports from her, skimming through them curiously.
"Well, it's almost a lead," he commented dryly.
Garnering no audible response from his partner, he looked up.
"Liv?"
"What?"
"Lead."
"Huh?"
"Victim?"
"Sorry."
Returning the reports once more to a growing pile of paperwork, Elliot turned to fully face his partner. Finally tearing her gaze away from the door, she met his stare.
"I'm fine, El."
"I didn't say a word."
His tone was light yet could not fully mask the underlying concern that coloured it.
"Liv…."
Seeing the shadow that crossed her face, the cop in Elliot recognised when a change of tact was needed.
"Munch was right, you know. You really do look like crap."
The humour behind his words took away some of their sting, but he knew his point had been made. Taking advantage of Olivia's uncharacteristic silence, he continued carefully.
"I know you've not been sleeping, since…."
A sharp glare cut him off mid-stride, but he still felt a small sense of relief at the familiarity.
"And how would you know that, Elliot?"
"Because I've called your apartment after midnight five times in the last two weeks, and you haven't answered your phone."
"Maybe I was asleep."
"Well, then why did you answer your cell on the first ring?"
"Who says I wasn't asleep some place else?"
"Like in an NYPD issue stake out vehicle?"
At this comeback, Elliot noticed his partner pale considerably. He felt a stab of remorse for pushing Olivia like she was a suspect he was interrogating, but he'd kept his mouth shut on the topic for three whole weeks, and what had begun as mild concern over his partner's happiness, was now blossoming into full-blown worry about her mental and emotional well-being. If not for a particular attachment to certain male parts of his anatomy, he was a step away from suggesting she talk to Huang. But knowing he'd hit his mark, his next question was delivered with a gentleness that seemed to surprise both of them.
"Have you even spoken to her, yet?"
Whether due to the question itself, or the empathy and understanding behind it, Olivia lifted her eyes back to her partner. As she did so, the emotion on her face flashed from something resembling shock, to anguish, before finally settling on a familiar wry resign.
"I'm sure she's been pretty busy lately. What with the new apartment, the new job, coming back from the dead…"
Seeing her mask re-form, Elliot knew that, for now at least, his chance to push further was over. But not fully willing to drop the matter completely, he again sought out his partner's eyes, hoping that this would either convey his sympathy, or at least dissuade her from killing him outright for his next remark, and the noticeable lack of levity in its soft delivery.
"You know, some people would call that stalking, Liv."
Instead of the barrage he was expecting, Olivia simply shrugged ruefully, still meeting his gaze. The small smile on her lips carried what he could only read as regret.
"I just need to know she's safe, El."
With that she turned abruptly, a hand reaching intuitively for the stained mug resting on her desk. Elliot watched silently as she sauntered over to the coffee maker on the other side of the room, casually throwing out a greeting to Detective Tutuola, as he emerged from Cragen's office. Yeah, there was definitely no way they could escape the fallout on this one.
TBC...