Hey, guess what? I have a quick update for you! I actually really like this story . . . a lot . . . even though I think I write better A/O friendship than A/O romance. But I am expanding my horizons! I hope you like this instalment.

Chapter Two

I wake up in the morning to find myself enveloped in Olivia's arms, snug as a bug in a rug as my mother used to say. I sigh contentedly and close my eyes again, happy to just lie here, safe in my girlfriend's embrace. It's Saturday; we can sleep late if we want to.

I hear Olivia's phone start to ring and groan in disappointment. That means SVU has caught a case and she needs to get out of bed – no one else would be calling her at 8:30 on a Saturday morning.

I shake her gently awake. "Liv," I murmur. "Your phone's ringing."

She opens her eyes and sighs. "Sorry. I have to take this."

I give her a small smile. "I know. It's okay."

I roll onto my side so she can get up and she answers her phone with a crisp, "Benson." She listens for a moment, then says, "I'll be there in ten." She hangs up the phone and turns to me, a look of contrition on her face. "Sorry, Alex. We caught a case."

"It's okay. I'll see you later."

She gives me a quick smile before throwing jeans and a t-shirt on over the tank top and boxers she usually sleeps in. I envy her in a way, how comfortable she is with her body. She doesn't care about her scars, but maybe that's because they were accidents.

I wonder if she'd care about mine.

I sleep every night in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, which Olivia thinks is some peculiar modesty that stems from my upbringing. Which would be more than odd, considering I've explored her entire body and it didn't embarrass me in the slightest. I know she wonders about me, why I refuse to change in front of her or wear tank tops or shower with her even though we sleep together, why I refuse to show her my body. But she knows better than to ask.

She asked in the beginning, the first time. "I want you, Alex," she moaned in a rare moment of candour, her passion superseding her caution. Her hands pulled at my shirt, starting to roll it up.

That killed the mood and I shook my head vigorously, wrapping my arms around myself and pushing my shirt down.

She looked disappointed. "Are we rushing things? I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. We can stop now if you want."

No. That was the last thing I wanted. "No," I said. "I – I just don't – I'm sorry." There I was, the sharp as a tack, cool as ice attorney, at a loss for words. I didn't know how to explain it to her. I couldn't tell her the truth but I didn't want to lie either.

She stopped anyway, though. "Are you okay, Alex?" she asked, clearly concerned, and I knew she'd noticed the slight shaking of my hands.

I tried to smile, but it didn't meet my eyes. "I'm shy," I admitted; a half-truth.

She laughed. "I'm sure you're beautiful, Alex. You are. But if you don't want to, we don't have to."

I nodded gratefully, but the incident left an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. How could we be together if we couldn't be honest with each other? No, she was perfectly honest with me – how could we be together if I couldn't be honest with her?

She lay down and I rested my head on her chest, trying to calm my pounding heart as Olivia wrapped her arms around me. "It's okay," she said, rubbing comforting circles into my back. "You're not ready. It's okay."

I wanted so much to give myself to her, my whole being, but I couldn't. So instead I just lay there, warm in her embrace, barely caring that I was wearing sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt and she wasn't wearing anything at all. This was where I felt safe. This was where I belonged.

I knew it then just as well as I know it now. But if I give in and show her my scars, it will be over. My fairy tale will end and we won't live happily ever after. She would be so disappointed in me, in my weakness. She is so strong, for herself, for the victims, for me. She would never let what happened to me happen to her.

Listen to me. Now I sound like a defence attorney. "The victim asked for it." But then, I don't like to think of myself that way. It was fifteen years ago. Now I'm Assistant District Attorney Alex Cabot. The Ice Queen. Passionate. Determined. Steadfast. Just. Fair. Strong. The Alex Cabot of fifteen years ago was none of the above. She was a child. She was weak.

Well, I guess adversity does make you stronger. What happened to me then could never happen to me now. I wouldn't be weak. I wouldn't be so naïve. I wouldn't be so blind. I wouldn't be so stupid.

I was a stupid little kid. I thought nothing bad could ever happen to me. Sure, I took the precautions every child is taught to take; don't walk alone at night, stay out of the "bad" neighbourhoods, keep your phone on, don't talk to strangers, etc. But no one ever told me that the ones who are closest to you are the true predators, the ones with the power to hurt you the most. The ones who want to hurt you the most.

Review for chapter four!