A/N: This is the final chapter of this little story-thanks for reading and your kind reviews. I've got another short one almost done and I'm starting on the sequel to 'Homeward Bound.' (Someone requested a happy one-shot, so maybe a smutty little preview of that one soon.)
-4-
After Branch pulled her off the case on Friday afternoon, Alex spent another hour in her office pushing paper and fuming, alternately furious and relieved. God, how she hated to back down. She had the weekend to stew over it, which didn't help, and even seeing the feds arrest Zapata in the courtroom on Monday after she dismissed the charges had been little consolation.
She thought about going over to the precinct, but decided against it. She knew they wouldn't gloat—even if they'd had good reasons for wanting her to drop the case, they'd all be as pissed as she was to walk away from this one. Knowing Zapata was going down for something wasn't the same as putting him away for Livia Sandoval's murder. She just needed a little time to lick her wounds. When Cragen called her at 4:30 to meet them all for drinks at 6, she'd initially declined.
"Don, I'm just not up for it tonight," she begged off.
"Come on, Alex, it's been rough on everyone. We're all miserable, so we might as well be miserable together."
"I don't know..."
"I'm not taking no for an answer, Cabot. We'll have some beverages and some bacteria-laden bar snacks, an hour tops. No-one's going to make you eat crow, I promise," he laughed. "I don't even think it's on the menu at O'Malley's."
She allowed a small laugh. She might as well go along, clear the air with the detectives. She was feeling down, and probably shouldn't go home and wallow in it. An hour or two with the squad might help her lick her wounds and move on. "Okay, fine."
"Great," the Captain said. "Benson said she drove you today, so she'll pick you up at quarter to six."
A little over an hour later, Alex's door was open and she was finishing up a brief when the detective appeared in her doorway with a light knock on the frame.
"Hey," Alex said. "Come on in. Just two more minutes?"
"No problem," Olivia said, and settled into her usual chair in front of the desk. Alex finished quickly, and stood up to put a few files in her briefcase, then walked across the room to grab her coat and briefcase. Olivia stood up and stretched, and headed toward the door. But Alex surprised her by closing the office door. She turned to face the detective.
"Olivia, can we talk? Just for a minute?"
"Sure, what's up?"
"This case..." the attorney began.
"I know," Olivia said. "It's been a tough one."
"More than you know," the attorney answered. "The whole thing...it has me questioning myself, and everything around me, Liv. I feel powerless." It was shocking to hear Alex sounding so defeated.
"Don't let this get you down, Alex," she said. "We'll get the next one, and Zapata will get his."
"I'm not sure if I can keep doing this," Alex confessed. "I don't know how much I have left in the tank."
The detective understood the sentiment, but she didn't know what to say. They all had their moments when the whole damn job seemed so futile, and every victim seemed like a single grain of sand on an endless beach, but she didn't want to consider the possibility of not having Alex on their team. "Don't make any rash decisions, Al. You're exhausted. Maybe you should take a little time off?"
"I don't know, maybe," Alex allowed. "I'm not sure that would help. But...Liv?"
"Yeah?"
"What you said to me, the other day in the precinct?"
Olivia had wondered when, or if, she'd have to explain herself. She decided to keep it simple, and let Alex guide the conversation. "I meant it."
"I was hoping you did." Suddenly, Alex stepped forward into Olivia's space, and put her hand on the detective's cheek, and kissed her. It was a sweet, soft kiss that lasted only a second, but Olivia felt a current of something—hope, promise, electricity—when their lips met.
"I may take that time off," Alex said quietly. "I need to sort some things out. But when it settles down a bit, I'd like to talk this over. Soon, I mean. Would that be okay?"
"More than okay," Olivia answered, and offered a smile that made Alex's stomach flip over. "It would be great, in fact. As much as I hate to say it, though, I guess we should get to O'Malley's."
Alex nodded and laughed, opening the door to usher the detective out. "You're right, we can't have that conversation while there's cheap beer in need of drinking."
Seven hours later, Olivia cried in the waiting room after the doctor told them Alex didn't make it. She heard other people crying, felt hands on her back, but she couldn't focus on anything. There was still blood on her hands, and she was holding Alex's coat. She'd picked it up off of the sidewalk after the ambulance took the ADA to Roosevelt's ER. Burying her face in it, she smelled Alex, and she brushed the fabric against her lips, where she thought she could still feel a tingle from their earlier kiss.
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