Olivia jumped from the police sedan before it had come to a complete stop. She hadn't really wanted to ride with Elliot. The feeling was strange, unexpected. She wasn't in the habit of avoiding her partner and best friend when he wanted to talk. Experience had taught her that allowing him to stew when something was bothering him gradually frayed his nerves until every little thing set him off. She decided she would have preferred the fallout of one of his moods to the conversation that had just occurred during the drive to the library.
She had known he would want to talk about Andy, something she couldn't figure out herself, much less discuss objectively, but she had never expected to tell him the truth about their history. The reason she'd never told Elliot about her past with Andy was simple - some personal issues were better off buried. It had been important for her to tell Elliot about her mother's rape; that had helped him understand her unwavering dedication to the job and her empathy for victims. There were other aspects of her life, however, that she didn't want to discuss with anyone, not even Andy, the man who had gone through them with her. Now it seemed as if she'd been hiding something, some shameful, dirty little secret.
She mentally replayed the scene four years earlier when she had introduced the two detectives at O'Malley's. Andy had come up, bought her a drink, started chatting. It had been over five years since she'd seen him, but the easy familiarity of their conversation had piqued her partner's curiosity. "Elliot, this is Andy Eckerson. We went through the academy together," was all she'd said to explain their acquaintance. There had been no mention of the shared apartment, the diamond engagement ring she'd handed back after six months, the...she stopped the reminiscence, unable to bear the pain and loss associated with her next thought. She would have to tell Elliot about the fact that she'd almost married Andy before she could even think about the other issue. She was suddenly regretful that she hadn't been raised Catholic; practice might have made the prospect of confession easier.
As she considered the situation more fully, she decided that maybe it was her unwillingness to reawaken her hidden pain that had led to the six months of mindless sex that Elliot had, until the past few minutes, defined as her relationship with Andy. She had wanted to be with him again so badly, but made a conscious effort to restrict the liaison: all of the pleasure with none of the passion, keep from getting hurt by avoiding emotional attachment. She had fooled herself into thinking it worked for almost six months, but the pressure of their feelings had been impossible to contain. He told her that he loved her and always had; she told him to leave and never come back. It had ended, and she'd gone back to her normal routine, dating men with whom she didn't see any semblance of a future.
She found it disheartening to discover that in the ten years that had passed since she'd left Andy, the only meaningful relationships she had cultivated were friendships with the people at SVU. Of these, Elliot was the only one with whom she shared any real part of herself, and he was her best friend, not her lover. She kicked herself again for never telling him about Andy. There was a point at which talking would have helped, but now the questions would start, or, much worse and much more likely, the hurt and suspicious glares accompanied by assurances that nothing was wrong. Elliot would expect her to tell him eventually, and would keep up the cold shoulder until she did. She was already dreading the day when he would break her down, as she knew he would.
Until that day happened, though, she would have to stay focused on the case at hand. She found that her body had done just that, even while her mind wandered; she had already ascended the stairs, halting on the second from the top where three uniformed officers were standing. Munch and Fin stood with her. She assumed that Elliot and Andy were behind her. No one, not even Andy, greeted Healey, who looked down at the detectives from the top step, seeming to relish her physical position above them. Olivia felt like she was watching Caesar address the Senate in a poorly produced play. Healey's contempt for the plebeian NYPD detectives and officers was barely concealed as she said, "Nice of you to get here, but don't bother going inside because the body is in the dumpster out back." She paused, waiting for someone to ask her for more details. None of the detectives gave her the satisfaction. Unflustered, she continued, "The head librarian is out back with two other officers, and your CSU has been notified, and, after seeing the body, I can state without a doubt in my mind that the dead girl is definitely a victim of Terry Paige."
Olivia felt as if the last statement were an accusation aimed directly at her. She instinctively retreated, moving backward and slipping on the icy step. Her arms pinioned for a moment as she tried to fight gravity. At the moment her inertia became irresistible, she felt the counter-force of two people pushing her in the opposite direction, helping her regain her balance. She closed her eyes, knowing who had prevented her fall by the mere touch of their hands. Elliot, who rarely touched her unnecessarily, had removed his quickly as soon as the danger had passed, probably made self-conscious by the contact; Andy's had lingered on her waist, making absolutely sure her feet were firmly planted before letting go. She swallowed hard as she turned to face the two men, half-wishing they had allowed her to fall and avoid all the things she didn't want to face today. Flushing with embarrassment, she forced herself to speak. "Thank you."
Elliot nodded, not looking at her. Andy smiled, saying, "Hey, anytime. Protect and serve and all that, y'know."
Healey was not amused. "Well, if Det. Benson has finished her gymnastics routine, we can go around back to check out the scene." She practically shoved past them on the steps, heading toward the sidewalk on 42nd St. to get around to the back of the building. Olivia followed, along with everyone else, but wasn't paying more attention than necessary to the path of the abrasive Marshal. She stared at the sidewalk passing beneath her feet, sensing Elliot's eyes continuously boring into her back and Andy frequently glancing at her from her side, where he had fallen into step with her.
When she could no longer bear the double scrutiny, she asked no one in particular, "What?"
Andy started, assuming she had addressed him. "Nothing. Just...are you all right, Olivia?"
"Yeah. I'm just not really looking forward to seeing any more of Paige's handiwork in this lifetime."
He continued glancing at her every few steps, but said nothing more. The back of his hand brushed her own as they walked, and she wondered if the touch was intentional or accidental. He had always held her hand in public back when they were together. He hadn't stopped even when his buddies had teased him, told him he was whipped. He'd told her that he liked to make sure that everyone knew she was with him, but she had always suspected he had done it to assert his willingness to protect her. He had been the first boyfriend she'd told about the circumstances of her birth, and the knowledge, rather than scaring him away, had made him try to shield her. She wanted to feel that reassurance in warm squeeze of his hand now, even if just for a moment. She knew better than to expect any such gesture from Elliot, but wondered briefly if the feeling of immediate security would be the same.
Rounding the corner of the building, she saw two uniforms standing uncomfortably outside a taped-off scene next to a loading dock. With them was a gray-haired, bespectacled man in a tweed jacket. He looked painfully out of place, shivering in the cold alley. Olivia couldn't think of any possible reason that Healey had asked him, or more likely forced him to remain outside in the biting wind with only his thin jacket for protection. Even if he had been the one who discovered the body, he could have waited to talk to them inside. Thankfully sliding her hands into the pockets of her own thick, wool coat, she wished she had taken her gloves out of Andy's car.
Healey stopped at the crime-scene tape, spreading her arms wide to indicate the closed-off area. "Here's the dump site." Turning, she continued, "Detectives, this is Mr. Simpson, the head librarian, and he'll be granting us access to the building and staff." The little man nodded, looking terrified of arguing with her. "Stabler and I will canvass the staff and patrons while the rest of you go over the area and see what you can find on the girl." She pointed to a nondescript service door, which the librarian rushed to unlock.
Before she could disappear into the warm building, Fin objected, "We gotta wait until CSU gets here before we start goin' through the scene. They get pissy if we touch things we ain't supposed to be messin' with. And who put you in charge, anyway?"
Healey looked extremely put out, but seemed unwilling to argue with four NYPD detectives and grudgingly changed her plan of attack. "Fine, then go get some interviews done while we're waiting. Munch, Fin, you two take the immediate area and Andy, you and Benson stay here and make sure we find out what the ME and CSU have to say as soon as they get anything. And for the record, I'm taking the lead on this one because I found the body "
"You found the body. You mean, you yourself found it?" Munch's statement seemed to reflect the incredulity on everyone's faces.
Healey twitched slightly, but responded confidently, "I was in a cab on my way back to your precinct when Cragen called me and told me to meet you all at the library instead, so I came here and, since it was unlikely that Paige would drag a dead body into the building, I looked in the most obvious place first – the alley in back of the building. Now I think we should all get to work."
Munch and Fin walked off down the alley, both grumbling about know-it-all Marshals. Elliot followed the librarian into the building, without so much as a nod to his partner. Olivia felt the sting of his snub more acutely than that of the wind.
Andy caught his own partner's arm before she could go in after Elliot. "Healey, there are uniforms here who can make sure the crime scene is undisturbed. Olivia and I should be helping with the canvass."
"Just be here when the ME arrives, okay Eckerson, and call us when you find out anything." She went through the door, calling out before it shut, "Benson can take the time to think about what she's done." The force of the slamming door caused several icicles to fall from its frame, creating an odd musical tinkling to accompany the echoing crash.
"Healey, you fucking bitch!" Andy ran up the short flight of stairs and smashed his fist against the door. Olivia barely registered his angry outburst. All day people had been telling her that Paige's escape wasn't on her head. Healey was the only one being honest, the only one telling her the truth. It was just as she'd feared; she really was to blame for Paige's escape, for an innocent girl's death. She sat heavily on the edge of the loading dock, head in her hands, trying to make sense of the situation. The cold concrete chilled her through her clothing, but she welcomed the numbness. She felt a pair of hands on her shoulders and, without looking up, flatly stated, "I'm fine, Andy."
"No, you aren't. I know that Healey got to you just now, but you can't listen to her."
"Why not? She's telling me exactly what I want to hear." She was unable to keep the pained sarcasm from her voice.
He moved his hands up her neck and face, holding her head and forcing her to look at him. "I'm not gonna let you wallow in self-pity. I've lost track of how many times I've told you that this situation isn't your fault, but I'll keep telling you until you believe it."
She looked away, unable to meet his eyes. He sighed, letting his hands drop to his sides. She became aware that the two officers who had been guarding the scene were watching them. She spoke to them instead of replying to Andy. "Hey, do you two have a car?" She received affirmative nods. "Why don't you pull it around so you're not stuck waiting in the cold." Both smiled in thanks and rushed away, eager to be warm again.
When they were gone, Olivia wasn't sure if she had sent them away because she cared that they were cold or because their disappearance would leave her alone with Andy. He was still standing in front of her, waiting for a response to his last statement. "Andy, I...how can I..." She paused, at a loss for words. Being alone with him was harder than she'd expected. She tried to buy some time to organize her thoughts. "Maybe you'd be more likely to get me talking if we were someplace warm?"
He got her not-so-subtle hint. "I'll pull the car around." As soon as he had rounded the corner, she stood, taking a latex glove from the pocket of her coat. Ducking under the crime scene tape, she approached the dumpster containing the remains of what, she was willing to bet, had been a pretty college girl. She wrapped the glove around the edge of the box's metal lid. It stuck with the cold, frozen in place. She wondered how Healey could have opened it not so long ago. She exerted more pressure and the lid snapped back, producing a metallic clang when it hit the wall of the building. She peered into the dark compartment. Staring up at her was a naked brown-eyed brunette, face marred by circular cuts around her eyes, lips and nose, as if she had been the practice dummy of an aspiring plastic surgeon. The rough, bloody slash across her throat clearly indicated her cause of her death. Bruises covered her pale skin.
Olivia could only stand and stare, finally confronted with the brutal reality that she was responsible for an innocent girl's murder. Andy, Elliot, Cragen, everyone had tried their best to convince her that this was a regular case, but the sick feeling in her stomach told her that she had been right all along. She took a step back, then another, getting ready to turn and run with each stride. She suddenly recoiled as she bumped into a solid body. "Get in the car, Olivia."
She hadn't heard Andy pull up or walk over, but followed his order without question. She heard him close the lid of the dumpster and walk after her. He didn't speak until they were both in the heated leather seats of his warm Suburban. "Was Healey right? Did Paige kill the girl?"
"Yeah." The new warmth on her skin did nothing to alleviate the chill that had settled into her core.
He sighed, taking her hand as she's wanted him to do earlier. "I guess you're going to need a whole lot more convincing that this isn't your fault."
As they watched CSU pull into the alley and begin their work, she remained in the passenger seat, still holding Andy's hand and fighting the strange urge to climb into his lap and cry.
