Ch 14.

Life went on as normal. It had to. No matter how much she wanted everything to change; no matter how much everything had changed.

Olivia

February 13, 2001

"Detective, can you explain what happened after you and Detective Stabler identified yourselves as NYPD?" Alex asked, her form regal as she stood in her element. It had always been her element, that much was painfully clear. There was almost an electrical aura around her as she deliberately paced the court room, pen propped to her mouth, not in a dainty fashion, but in a powerful fashion.

Olivia leaned back with a half shrug as if to convey that she had expected it, that everyone should expect it of the guilty. "He ran," she said with a soft sigh. Just because certain words could not be stated in court did not mean that concepts could not otherwise be conveyed. She was indicating that, in her experience, only guilty people ran. It was not necessarily the truth in every case, but she hoped the jury would believe that it was. If nothing else, it would help them net that particular case.

"We chased him. I caught up to him first; Detective Stabler went down a second alley to try and cut him off at the turn. I was able to grab the back of the suspect's shirt, but he turned, taking a swing at me. At that time, Detective Stabler was able to more securely restrain him," Olivia explained, her voice smooth as though it happened all of the time.

Alex nodded, tapping the pen to her lower lip. Olivia adjusted herself in her chair. It had been a month since the two had shared a bed. She had hoped their weekend escapade would have settled the desire inside of her, but it had not. If nothing else, the knot in her stomach held even tighter now that she had a taste. Alexandra Cabot was restrained but passionate and powerful in the court room. When the professional element was removed and she was dropped into the middle of a bedroom, she became an intense dose of carnal, unhindered sex who also happened to be quite talented in the kitchen.

Olivia had joked that Alex had ruined her for any other partner. And, while Alex had chuckled about it, Olivia was not actually certain that she had been joking.

And, that had been it. Monday morning, they had both gone into the office after dropping Kibbles at a near by dog daycare, and when they had met again later in the afternoon, the exchange had been nothing shy of professional. Not that Olivia had expected anything different. She still did not. There was the customary Friday night out with the rest of the squad, something that Alex was invited to regardless. But, outside of that interaction, there had been no contact outside of the office, no mention of their nights – and days – together.

Despite their original agreement, it was killing the detective to not address it. The same did not seem to be true for the attorney, and Olivia had found herself tense over the past month, getting into more arguments with her, unsure if she should feel used.

"Cabot," Olivia yelled, racing across the court house steps that evening, once trial had let out. Alex had stayed behind to pack up her things, and Olivia had waited, too, outside of the courtroom, her heart in her throat. The attorney paused, looking over her shoulder before her body relaxed and she waited for the detective to catch up.

"What can I do for you, Detective?" Alex asked, her eyes barely grazing over Olivia. It felt like utter rejection.

Olivia sighed. "Alex," she said, her tone soft, almost timid. She could hear it, and it made her cringe internally. "We need to talk, personally."

Alex shook her head. "No, Olivia, we don't," she said, her tone firm as she frowned. "We agreed that there couldn't be anything between us. The job has to be the only thing between us."

"I need more closure than that, Alex," Olivia said, the hurt entering her voice unintentionally. She hated herself for it, but it seemed to garnish the attorney's attention because she stopped, her fingers playing with the strap of her attache. Olivia swallowed, licking her lips as she stepped forward. "At least tell me that it was just another fuck, that you were feeling needy and hurt and I fulfilled some sort of one night stand role or, or something."

"This is really not something we should be discussing," Alex said, her voice a little less firm that time, though still capable of driving the typical suitor away.

Olivia chose to stand her ground, one hand on her hip. "Why the fuck not, Alexandra?" Olivia asked. "Just fucking let me know what I am to you. I get the job bit. Believe me, I want to fucking do my job, but I can't. I can't get you out of my head, so just fucking tell me I'm worthless or something." Her voice elevated as she spoke, not quite yelling, but they were definitely beyond simply talking at that point.

And, Alex seemed to rise to the challenge. "Because I fucking can't," she snapped. "You're not worthless. You're there, in my head. Don't you get it?" Alex shook her head, her voice softening. "That weekend was nothing shy of primal satisfaction. It was what it was meant to be – a release of pent up sexual tension. But, it's also been the only time I've ever fucked someone and not felt dirty afterwards. It's the first time I didn't immediately get up and shower. I didn't question my morals or my ethics. It felt right."

Alex dropped her eyes to the ground, her body slack as though exhausted. "It felt right, Liv," she whispered, "and that's what scares me most of all."

Shaking her head, Alex turned and walked away, leaving Olivia visibly stunned and shaken. Despite wanting to, the detective could not quite bring herself to follow Alex down the street. She wanted to catch up to her, to pull her close and kiss her, to hold her, to protect her, but she understood what Alex was saying on a less superficial level. She knew, in that moment, if she went after the attorney, there would be no turning back. Both women would be positioned to play out their personal lives to whatever end that might bring. Alex was like a dose of heroin. There had been beauty in the high, but Olivia understood that the fall would be dangerous and would likely end up badly for both of them.

So, she stayed, rooted to her spot until Alex disappeared around a corner. And, then, she headed back to the precinct to pick up her case load where she left off. There would be no use in going home that night.

Startling herself awake, Olivia rolled over on the twin bed shoved in the corner of the detectives' sleeping quarters. Affectionately dubbed 'the Crib,' detectives who stayed late or worked triple shifts often napped there, much the same as an infant – for one to two hours at a time. Glancing at her watch, Olivia groaned. She had not even gotten that much time.

She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of her dream, but she could not quite shake it. She had been eleven or twelve in her dream, running around the park after school, kicking a soccer ball. She had thought she was alone, but this little girl came out of nowhere, her face smeared with soot, coughing. "Help me," the other child had declared. "I'm fading." Then, as if the words triggered something, the child had flickered in and out of reality, losing her technicolor for a moment before flickering back, shuddering. "You're losing me, Olivia."

It had been that line that had startled her into the realm of consciousness. She could have sworn it was a familiar child, and she swung her legs out of bed, padding back down to the precinct a half level below. "Where did I put that image?" she murmured, pulling open her desk drawer and pawing through it. "Ah, there." She pulled out a head shot of a little girl in a newspaper clipping.

Slowly, Olivia sank into her desk chair, the clipping tight in her fingers. As part of the academy when she had been just a rookie, they had studied the case. It had been an exercise on talking to children. An unidentified female had been dropped off, according the the instructor, at a local hospital. The girl refused to give her name or address. The idea was to help the cadets think about creating a rapport with children. While Olivia had wanted to go into Special Victims for the sexual abuse aspect, it had been that training exercise that had expanded her considerations into domestic violence and child abuse.

"You're here early," Don murmured behind her. Olivia jumped and looked over, smiling sheepishly. "What's that?"

Olivia shook her head. "Just a newspaper clipping from a case about twenty years back," she said. "We studied it in academy."

Don narrowed his eyes as he stepped closer. "You studied that case? You're sure?" he asked, offering a skeptical look.

The junior detective nodded. "Yea, um, she refused to talk with law enforcement, probably afraid of her dad or something. It was a rapport building exercise. I kept it to remind myself of the value of making children feel safe."

The captain of the unit nodded, a slight frown on his face. "Then, you didn't study that case, Liv," he said. "Because, if you had studied the case, you would know who she was."

Olivia's brow furrowed. "Did you – did you work this case?"

The man nodded again. "Yes. I was still a beat cop back then, before I got my shield. I was driving over by Wall Street when I got the call. She was stumbling down pier eleven covered in vomit with dried blood in her hair. I called for a bus and got her bundled in the back of my cruiser. After they took her, I didn't know what became of her. She kept calling me Papa. My heart broke for that little kid."

"Have you ever thought about following up?" Olivia asked.

"I've certainly had the opportunity," he said, "but I don't think she remembers me. Anyway, she's pretty successful now. And, to be truthful, quite the successful pain in my rear." Olivia's brow furrowed. Don laughed, shaking his head. "That's Alexandra Cabot."

Olivia's mouth dropped open as she stared at the girl in the picture. "That's – wait – the ADA?" she stammered.

"The same," Don said. "I can't believe the crap they're spinning at the academy now."

Olivia fell silent, staring at the image. There was the familiar look of haunted terror in the girl's eyes. Even in the newspaper photo, Olivia could see the cracked lips. The child was too thin, a bruise still healing around her right eye socket. "Someone beat the crap out of her," she breathed.

"More than once, too," Cragen affirmed. "She wouldn't say who, though, not while she was with me." He shook his head. "I don't know what it'll do, but I don't think it was her father."

Olivia traced the outline of the child's face. "The men who beat her at the pier," she said, her head snapping up. "She was at pier eleven. She said the security guard, the one who saved her, called her Rebecca."

Don's brow furrowed. "I don't know. I don't know why someone would call her Rebecca."

"Because she didn't remember her name," Olivia said. "She told me that she picked her name when she was adopted because she didn't remember her name. The night you found her, she was diagnosed with severe amnesia. She says everything before waking up at the hospital was a blur."

With a shrug, Don sighed. "Sounds to me like you might need to go talk to that security guard. But, uh, Liv -"

"Yea?" Olivia asked, already grabbing her jacket.

"Don't tell Alex that you're digging into her past."

"Got it," Olivia said, taking off to the pier in hopes that she would be able to catch the guard before his shift ended.