I want to take this moment to thank my brilliant and beautiful reviewers, readers, and fans. Without your input and encouragement, I would've stopped updating ages ago. By the way, for those of you who are curious, I slightly edited Chapter 7 – nothing you need to reread, but I realized I slipped and put 'March' in as the month rather than 'September,' which it was on my timeline. I'm getting ahead of myself here…anyways; enjoy this post.
The sleepless, mournful Olivia was a disservice to the vibrant, alive Liv of a day and a half ago, before everything changed. She'd lain in bed since Elliot had driven her back from Bellevue, only getting up twice, once to drink a glass of water, the other to answer Cragen's call telling her they all could take a personal day, considering they'd all been at the hospital late, or early, really.
The crackling emanating from the speaker beside her door startled her. She'd been awake since five that morning, dragging herself out of bed to desperately try to hide the bruise-like dark circles saddling the hollows beneath the rims of her eyes. Needless to say, Olivia wasn't expecting anyone to show up.
Pressing a fingertip lightly to the 'speak' button, she answered, "Yes?"
"Liv, it's El. Open up." His tone left no room for arguing, so she buzzed him in.
He was at her door in an instant. Elliot smiled tentatively, but it wasn't a happy one. The grief they both felt freshly was reflected in the reassuring arc of his lips. The other night was still too fresh in their memories.
"How are you doing?" he asked quietly, stepping in. She just looked at him, her eyes frozen glassily with tears. "Right. Stupid question."
"Did Cragen call you?" she asked finally, running her fingers through her tousled hair. "My cell was off."
Elliot nodded vaguely. "He said he'll understand if we need another day off – all of us, Munch and Fin too – but the more information they get out of us, the easier it'll be to find the men who shot Al – who shot her," he finished, wary of speaking the name Olivia had whispered so many times, spoken so lovingly, said with such vividness.
"I'm going in," she told him decisively, brushing aside the memories, briskly reaching for her faded leather coat, and pulling on her black-heeled boots.
"Liv, you sure? You look like you haven't slept since we came home from the hospital, maybe you should…"
"El," she cut him off. "I will never forgive myself if I let him get away. It's already my fault she's…"
A tear slipped down her face. "I have to find him. He took her away," she whispered, the hurt cutting through her words. Her unguarded, warm eyes were pleading.
Elliot hesitated, and then nodded. "Okay."
…
The picture in the paper did Alex little justice. The colors were bright and showy, and the illustrious corn silk hair was an unnatural yellow. Still, the face emblazoned on the front of the New York Ledger undoubtedly bore a perfect resemblance to Alexandra Cabot.
'No Leads On Slain A.D.A.' was the headline above the depiction. Elliot scoffed. 'No leads' was an understatement, at best. All they had was some black SUV. No description of a shooter, no witnesses aside from Olivia and himself, and no plate numbers or letters. The bullet that had embedded itself in Alex's shoulder was still waiting to be examined in Evidence, so they hadn't been able to determine casings or the gun it was shot from. They were searching blindly through a maze that somehow involved Rafael Zapata and Cesar Velez, eventually. Alex and Tim Donovan were the casualties who tied the package together.
They were all silent – Fin, Munch, who rarely shut up, Elliot, and most of all, Olivia – and they had been all day, up until the closing to the day. She kept gazing down at the black band covering her badge, a tribute they all bore to the beauty they'd lost. Though she wasn't an officer, they wore the black strips in remembrance, because Alexandra was as much a part of the team as they all were. Captain Cragen broke through their reverie as he strode in, his expression solemn. "We get a trial date on that Richmond case?" he asked.
Olivia looked up. "It's postponed," she murmured shakily.
"We're gonna lose that witness. She was already shaky to begin with," Cragen pointed out. It was all they could do, focus on work as usual, putting off the stain in the proverbial carpet that they kept dancing around.
Elliot broke in. " Well, nothing we can do. You got SVU cases being handled by ADAs from other bureaus. They don't give a damn."
An officer walked in then, intruding on their grief, and handed Cragen a slip of paper. He read it to himself as they watched his face turn to stone.
"Well, isn't that nice?" he muttered sarcastically.
Munch looked up at him. "What?"
"Rafael Zapata Gaviria was found dead in a holding cell awaiting a hearing. No witnesses."
Fin scoffed. "There goes Velez's extradition."
"I long for the old days when the government would just send in the Delta Force assassination squad," Munch ranted darkly.
The Captain turned to Elliot and Olivia. "DEA Agent Hammond wants to see you guys tonight," he informed them. He passed the slip of paper to Olivia. "There's the address."
Elliot was confused. "What for?"
"Something about closing out the case."
…
The address was along a dark and twining road in the middle of nowhere. Hammond was waiting, looking a bit haggard, and began walking toward them.
Elliot called out to him, "Nice location. Convenient."
"Sorry. Only way to do this."
Olivia spoke up for the first time. "Do what?" she asked. She didn't want to deal with any more getting jerked around when she could be at the precinct, helping to avenge Alex's death. What could this DEA agent offer them that preceded that?
"Wouldn't take no for an answer. Real pain in the ass, this one." Hammond's voice was laced with admiration and derisiveness.
Olivia was mystified. She and Elliot were in front of a government van, a dark one, with U.S. marshals surrounding it. One opened the back door to reveal a woman sitting there. A breathtakingly, beautiful blonde woman. Her light brown leather jacket was partially covered by the scarf concealing her neck and the sling around her right arm. Her eyes were a piercing blue.
Alex. Alive.
A million thoughts rushed through Olivia's head; shock, hope, relief, confusion, love. She locked eyes with Alex, reveling in the very much alive blue that made her want to melt, unsure of the woman who sat before her.
"I am so sorry about all of this," Alex whispered to Olivia and Elliot, her voice broken and faint. She was a whisper, a breeze that would pass by in the blink of an eye.
Olivia stared at her in disbelief, feeling the cold tears begin to slide down her face. She didn't care. All that mattered was Alex. "Your funeral's tomorrow," she choked, the sob she was suppressing contained in her throat.
"And you're both expected to attend," Hammond chimed in, unaware of the sparks dancing from the blonde and the detective. "For the time being, Ms. Cabot's better off dead. If Velez can get to Zapata, he can get to her."
Elliot found his voice, hesitant. "Witness protection."
The blonde nodded, wincing at the smallest movement. "Until Velez is extradited or otherwise dealt with."
"How long?" Olivia asked her, probing Alex's eyes with her own.
Alex didn't offer an answer, so Olivia knew there wasn't one. The tears ran rivers down her face, though she refused to cry out loud. Alex saw the anguish she was in, and discreetly reached for Olivia's fingers, interlacing them with her own. They didn't have the time or the place for the goodbye they both deserved, so they gazed into each others' eyes with the realization that they might never do so again.
I wish I'd told you sooner, Alex thought, her own dazzling eyes filled with tears. I should have told you every day how much you mean to me, how much I love you. And it's over now, and death would've been better than having to face life knowing I may never see your face again.
A marshal called out, "We're on the move. Sorry, folks. Move them out."
Their hands were torn apart as Alex was hurriedly ushered inside of the van. She looked as though she wanted to say more, her lips the beginnings of a silent 'I love you', but the doors closed with the finality of a life lost. Or two.
Olivia stood wordlessly beside Elliot, trying to forever commit to her memory the immeasurable blue of her eyes, the velvetiness of the silken hair. The feel of her soft lips, the raspberry scent of her hair, exquisite taste of her kiss.
You'll haunt me, Olivia told her silently, willing the words. I'll never forget.
The blonde, brilliant, beautiful Alex. The daunting, irrevocable Alex. A
Alex. Alex, Alex, Alex.
ALEX.