A/N: Facing your own demons will help you face the ones that lie within your lover.
DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and the characters; TStabler© owns the story you're about to read.
"It's the shaking," she whispered, wringing her hands together. "The nausea fades, the panic attacks and paranoia…they're annoying but manageable." She bit her lip and closed her eyes. "The insomnia is nothing new to me, and the headaches…aspirin takes care of them. But the shaking…"
"I know," the man sitting across from her said. "How often do you…"
She scoffed and interrupted him. "Every single day. I can't hold onto things, I can't walk in a straight line at times, I'm afraid it's gonna get so bad that…if I'm aiming my gun and I can't…" she stopped. She cleared her throat. "It's killing me not to just give in and pick up a bottle to make it stop."
"Why don't you?" the man asked, clicking his pen and jotting something down.
She eyed him for a moment, then knew it was a question he had to ask, and one she had to answer. "A lot of reasons."
"Name them," he commanded.
She rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. "Elliot," she said. "He…losing him was the reason I drank to begin with, but now that…I mean, he's here, a much bigger part of my life than ever, so…" she waved a hand, moving on. "Kathleen got drunk last night. She did it to prove some kind of point, but she was so…I knew that's only a tenth of the mess I was when I drank."
"How do you know that?" the man asked, tilting his head.
She licked her lips. "I met Kathy for coffee this morning," she said. "It was casual, cordial. Weird. She told me…she told me she ran into an ex-boyfriend of mine, someone she knows, too. They started talking…um, about the divorce, Elliot, and me. Just catching up, ya know? He told her to tell me I left my watch at his place last month and to call him whenever I wanted to pick it up."
"So why is that strange?" The man clicked his pen again.
"The last time I remember seeing him was last year, when I left him." She rubbed her eyes. "Damn it, it was Trevor and…George, I don't remember being with him at all since we broke up. I don't remember…"
George sat up straighter. "Olivia," he interjected. "You drank a lot, you know that. You blacked out. You've told me stories of waking up…"
"Right," she cut in. "But I don't remember waking up at Trevor's, I don't remember hating myself for letting it happen. I remember every other fucking mistake, why not this one?"
George smirked. "Because maybe it didn't happen," he said. "Maybe Trevor knows your situation, and he knows you're trying to build something with Elliot, and he knows Kathy…"
She narrowed her eyes and held up a hand. "You think Trevor lied to Kathy, knowing she would tell me, and it would make me…"
"Crazy," George nodded. "But maybe it did happen, but you were so far gone that you didn't come back into the light until you got back to your place. Either is possible. It's your subconscious, Olivia, what do you think it's protecting you from?"
Olivia took a breath. "I wouldn't sleep with him," she decided. "Even if I was drunk he…not after everything he put me through."
"Okay," George said. "So trust that. But this was a good thing, Olivia. It was a wake-up call. One you needed. It got you here, I've been begging you to come see me for…"
"I'm not here because of Trevor!" she snapped. "I'm here because I can't fucking stop shaking and it's going to cost me my job if I can't get a handle on it! I'm here because I don't want this to be what kills me the way it killed my mother! I'm here because I am terrified of my life now that I'm actually living it!"
George moved back in his chair. "Olivia, calm down, okay? I didn't mean…I'm sorry." He pushed a glass of water toward her. "How's Kathleen?"
Olivia drank the water and shook her head. "She called her sponsor, then I…I talked to her. About everything, and of course she knew all of it already. She was much worse than I ever was when she…"
"I remember," George said. "How is she now?"
"She's okay," she said. "She apologized, she told us that she would try to understand what's happening and trust that we won't hate each other. Me and Elliot, I mean. That's what she's afraid of."
"And you're not?" George wrote something in his notebook and looked at her.
She shook her head and shrugged. "I'm more afraid of falling apart myself than losing him again. I know that Elliot isn't going anywhere now." She ran both hands over her face. "So what do I do about these tremors? Shouldn't they have stopped by now?"
George handed her a prescription slip. "You drank very heavily, every night for six months straight. Three weeks off the sauce isn't gonna make you feel all new and shiny again. You're still only beginning to dextox..."
"Great," she snapped, taking the paper from him. She looked down. "Get more sleep? You're perscribing me a daily nap?"
George shrugged.
"Thanks," she spat, crumpling the scrip and tossing it at him. "I know they'll go away once my system evens out but…"
"Take a beta blocker in the morning," George said. "I'll call Melinda, she'll give them to you. Liv, none of this is going on your record, your job isn't on the line here. You know that, don't you?"
She sighed and said, "It isn't now, but it could be, because if I can't stop shaking long enough to do my job…" she couldn't bring herself to say it. "Thanks, George."
"My door is always open," he returned, picking up the phone to call Doctor Warner, as Olivia walked out of his office. He sighed, noticing her fingers trembling slightly as she left.
Nick Amaro stood in front of a pane of glass, next to both Cragen and Manning, the captain from Queens Homicide. "Jesus," he huffed.
"Brilliant, aren't they?" Cragen said, filled with pride and deep nostalgia. "How long did it take them to…"
"She walked in at ten," Manning said. "They flipped through some files, looked at a picture, she said 'Let's go," he explained. "An hour later they had him in cuffs."
Nick scoffed. "Yeah, well, he ain't talking," he said. "Stabler's doing a lot of yelling, and Olivia is just staring at him with that…smirk on her face. I don't see how…"
"Wait for it," Cragen said, grinning.
Nick rolled his eyes, but then they widened. He watched Elliot get in their perp's face, watched Olivia slink slowly around the table and he could tell by the way she moved she was using a low, sultry tone when she spoke. He watched the man in the chair look from Elliot to Olivia, from an angry face to a seductive one, and he watched Elliot speak again.
"Three," Cragen whispered. "Two…"
The man being interrogated dropped his head into his hands, crying as he told them everything. Listed names of victim's, told them where he hid bodies, and asked for a lighter sentence since he cooperated.
"What the fuck was that?" Nick asked, stunned.
"That was real detective work," Cragen said, chuckling. "Good cop, bad cop."
"More like scary cop, hot cop," Nick said, still baffled.
"Hey, Don," Manning grinned. "How much do you want for her?"
Cragen shook his head. "You can't afford her," he told his fellow captain. "Besides, she's meant to work with the living."
Their heads turned as the door opened and Olivia and Elliot walked into the pit. "Was that enough for you?" Olivia asked, her hands in her pockets.
Manning nodded and held out his hand for a shake. "More than enough, thank you," he said.
Elliot noticed Olivia not moving, and quickly gripped his captain's hand. "She's um…she's got a cold."
"No, she doesn't," Nick scoffed.
Olivia shot him a look and cleared her throat, then coughed. "Just being careful," she said. "I'm glad I could help. And it doesn't hurt that I got to work with Stabler over here," she smiled. "Anytime you need help, feel free to…"
"Ask both of us," Nick piped up again. "It was a pleasure, Sir." He shook Manning's hand eagerly.
"Right," Manning said. "Thanks for loaning me your best, Don. I'll call you." He turned. "Stabler, you have a report to write up. You don't suppose Benson wants to help you, huh?"
Elliot laughed. "You don't know her and paperwork," he joked. "She'd rather give herself a root canal with a can opener." He gave her a soft look, smiled at her, and strutted into the squad room.
Cragen hit Nick on the shoulder and looked toward Olivia. "You two, back home, yeah? I'll meet you there."
Olivia ran a hand through her hair and walked with Nick through the doors. She met Elliot's eyes as they walked through the bullpen, and she smiled at him.
"You, uh, you work well together," Nick told her as they stepped into the hallway. "You and Elliot."
"We do," she said, nodding. She pressed the call button for the elevator and said, "We always have."
Nick sighed. "Always will," he said. "That's what that thing on your neck means, right? Always faithful?"
She leaned against the wall of the lift as the doors slid closed. Her fingers toyed with the round pendant and she said, "Yeah."
"I'm sorry," Nick said, his eyes closing. "I shouldn't have tried to…with my wife being so far away and you…you being so close I…it was wrong. I'm sorry."
She nodded once. "Fine," she said. "No more bars, okay? I'm not…I don't drink."
He scoffed. "Bullshit," he said. "I've watched you pound 'em back."
"Not anymore," she clarified. "I don't." She blinked and said, "You were really quiet tonight. That's not like you. Something wrong?"
"I didn't have anyone to talk to," he told her. The doors opened and they walked out of the elevator. "You got here after that thing you had to do you wouldn't explain, and you went right to him. Then it was the two of you all the way. I felt like the dorky friend, the third wheel watching you on a great date."
Olivia shook her head. "Nick, I didn't realize…"
"Ya know what?" he said, turning to her. "I'm glad I saw it. I know what I have to follow, what I have to compete with. We're never gonna be like that, Olive! Olivia." He cleared his throat. "You have your own, like, made up language. You communicate with looks and little hand-signals, you laugh at the stupidest shit with him and that will never, ever, be us."
Olivia gave him a shrug as her mouth opened and closed, unsure of what to say. There was a moment of silence, then only the sound of their footsteps. "I don't want that to be us," she finally said.
"What?" he asked, looking at her.
"Elliot is…special," she said, getting into the car. "Very special to me. He…what we have…I don't want that with anyone but him. Do you get that?"
Nick sighed. "I got it," he mumbled. "I'll put in the papers tomorrow if…"
"Hey, whoa," she stopped him. "You need to listen to a girl before you jump…anyway, I meant…maybe we can…work on something of our own." She held up a hand. "Professionally, so stay where you are."
He laughed. "I'm not gonna try to kiss you again," he told her. "My face and ego are still recovering from the last time."
She chuckled a bit and said, "Just drive, pal." She sighed as the car peeled out of the lot, her eyes on the brick building fading in the mirror.
She was the first one home, she parked in the driveway and headed for the front door. She reached for the knob, her keys in her hand, but she was pulled away and pressed against the side of the house. Lips were on hers, a set of hands was running over her body, pawing at her. She tried to breathe, inhaling his cologne.
He pulled away from her, panting. "I have been dying to do that all fucking day," he griped.
She cupped his face and kissed him again. "Yeah?"
He nodded. "Working with you was like…it felt like…"
"Home," she finished. She turned and looked at the front door. "Speaking of home…have you…"
"Yeah," he said, unlocking the door and holding it for her. "I found a great place. Townhouse in Manhattan, with both of us paying for it…"
"You work in Queens," she interrupted, taking off her jacket.
He raised an eyebrow. "You work in Manhattan. Liv, I made the commute every day for twelve years, now I'm just gonna do it backwards."
She fell into him, her arms winding around him. She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. "El, I know you're being so good about this, so patient and I…"
"Dad?" Dickie spoke, standing at the foot of the stairs. He watched as both faces turned toward him. "Sorry to, uh, interrupt, but…can I talk to you? It's kind of...important."
Elliot nodded and kissed Olivia, before leading his son up to his room. "Come on, kid."
Olivia watched them go, sitting on the couch with a deep sigh. A night alone with Elliot was going to have to wait, she assumed, looking down at her hands. It was then she realized they hadn't been shaking since she left Huang's office.
She looked up at the stairs. Then up at the ceiling. And then she whispered, "Elliot."
A/N: What does Dickie want? And a move that makes Olivia weak in the knees. For a good reason.