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Chapter 26

A/N: Thank you so much for your comments and follows! I really appreciate all of you! Please feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you like about this story or any other thoughts you may have. If you would like to connect via social media, my Instagram/twitter is faceinbud.

Here is Chapter 26. Trigger warning for vague discussion of sexual assault during a therapy session and internalized homophobia.

I need to add both a disclaimer that I do not own SVU or its characters and a trigger warning for SVU-related topics. I will try to be more specific when necessary.

The fully body kit had afforded Alex more than enough evidence to secure an indictment on her newest case, and after the grand jury had returned a true bill, the prosecutor met her girlfriend at Kimani's office. The older woman pulled Alex into a hug upon her arrival, congratulating her on her latest victory.

"Thanks, Liv," she muttered softly into her shoulder, taking a moment to absorb strength from the woman she loved. Olivia always made her feel better when she was anxious, and this solo appointment was definitely making her anxious.

"Doing this is very brave," Benson assured her gently, pulling back and squeezing both of her hands. "Remember, I'm going to be right out here the whole time, okay?"

She gave a noncommittal nod. "Okay."

Kimani rounded the hallway then, offering both women a smile. "Hi, Olivia. Hi, Alex. You ready?"

"Uh, yeah," she stammered, biting her lower lip.

Alex felt the brunette squeeze her hand once more. "Right here," she stressed. "You've got this, love." She kissed the ADA's knuckles, releasing her hand and watching the two women walk together back towards Kimani's office.

Alex reminded herself to breathe as she took slow, deliberate steps in time with her therapist's, each foot in front of the other bringer her closer to the place in which she'd have to bare her soul—alone. Though her drill sergeant hadn't yet made his presence known, a familiar anxiety was moving through her, a response to the danger of vulnerability. But she—once again—had the facts on her side. She didn't have to share anything she didn't want to. She had power. And Kimani and Olivia were both on her team.

Step. Step. Step.

"Go ahead and find a seat where you're comfortable."

She'd done this before. Walked into the room. Sat down. Took a deep breath. Prepared to do the work. This was no different.

This was safe.

This was radical self-love.

Pretty quickly, her nerves settled, and she turned her attention fully to the present. No matter how hard this was, she would survive it. She had survived so much worse. She would get through therapy, even if she were vulnerable, even without Olivia, and she'd be better for it.

One word at a time.

She'd told Tommy Jiang, one of Father D'Agostino's victims, that he would be okay eventually. They both would.

"Olivia has talked about knowing she was attracted to women from an early age. Have you had a similar experience?" Kimani asked her a few minutes in, wanting to get some more foundational information from her client.

"I...I don't know." She thought for a couple of moments, wanting to do her best to give Kimani a productive answer. "I mean, it's possible I'm bisexual and afraid of men."

The marriage and family therapist smiled. "Of course it is. But that wasn't my question."

She had her there. "I...I've never been attracted to men, even before Pastor Paul, when I first hit puberty. I had a couple of acquaintances when I was young. I didn't understand their crushes and I was jealous. But not of them, of their boyfriends. I didn't understand why they wanted to hang out with boys. I wanted to be close to them. But it felt wrong."

Kimani tipped her head to the side. "Why did it feel wrong?"

"I was told it would be wrong."

"By who?"

Alex saw this coming. "My parents, my church..."

"Pastor Paul?"

"Yes." The attorney nodded, swallowing thickly. If she were going to be honest, she might as well tell the whole story. Kimani was on her team. Her team. Kimani and Olivia were both on her team, she told herself. "I was taking baptism classes early because I was caught cuddling with a female friend. A few years after he raped me, he delivered a scathing sermon about the sin of homosexuality."

"That must have been confusing," the therapist commented.

It had been, sort of. It's not that Alex ever believed that rape was okay. But as a young child, hypocrisy had been difficult to understand. She had understood that she'd been assaulted, that was for sure. Sex was a beautiful thing in the confines of marriage, her mother had told her. That it was an expression of love. Her tone had been wistful, melancholy almost, but the words never left Alex. What Pastor Paul did was painful, violent. She'd known the difference almost instinctively. But if the religious leader said it was okay…was she obligated to listen? And what of the affection she felt for her only genuine friend? A brutal attack was Godly, but cuddling with Cassie wasn't? If she'd had any self-esteem at all, she would have stood up in church and questioned it. But she was too afraid. Too small. Too broken. "I had a copy of The Joy of Lesbian Sex under my bed. I burned it after that day."

"And your first consensual sexual experience—was it with a woman?"

She sighed. "That's complicated."

"How so?"

"With Tammy, sometimes I—" Alex cut herself off, more than aware of her own hypocrisy in the moment.

Kimani decided to speak, latching onto the silence when it appeared that the ADA wasn't going to continue. "I'm going to stop you there for a minute, Alex, to ask a clarifying question. You said you were fifteen. How old was Tammy?"

"I, uh...mid twenties, I suppose."

"So, tell me if I'm wrong, but it sounded like you were about to say that sometimes you consented with Tammy." Cabot gave a small, embarrassed nod. She'd had witnesses who found themselves in similar situations as she'd been, women—and now that the statute had been changed, men—who simply couldn't bring themselves to say no. And young girls that were incapable of consent, just like the blonde was as a child in that cabin. If she were preparing to put herself on the stand, Alex would have gently said that the absence of a no does not equate the presence of a yes, and that fifteen-year-olds were children, and there was no such thing as sex between a child and an adult. But she knew she wasn't ready to hear that from herself, even if she tried to be as tender as Olivia. Her compassion for herself was growing, but she still had strides to make. "Assuming she was twenty-five, that made her ten years your senior. And again, I could be wrong, but it doesn't sound like you genuinely wanted your first times to be like that."

Kimani's words did the trick, but Alex knew she'd have to admit the truth to herself one day. She'd have to eventually say the words. She'd beaten around the bush and used vague language about what had happened with her and Tammy for so long that she wasn't even sure she knew what to call it. "No, I guess I didn't. I figured she'd always be gentle and considerate because she was a woman, but...sometimes she didn't even care about my comfort, let alone my pleasure. Okay, then she wasn't my first. I've never been touched, not consensually. I had a whole bunch of one-night stands pretty soon after, but I was always in control. It made me feel incredibly dirty, but I still pursued it. Didn't slow down until law school when I really no longer had the time. I guess I wanted to see the beauty in it—in orgasm, in sex as a whole."

"And did you?"

Alex's lip began to quiver, and she consciously chose not to fight it. Kimani knew how to hit a raw nerve. "Not until Olivia."

"There's no rush because I don't want to overwhelm you," the older woman said slowly after giving her client some time to process in the silence, "but I'd like to refer you to a trauma specialist at some point."

"I thought you were a trauma specialist," Alex argued, noticing herself become slightly defensive in response to the river of emotion flowing out of her.

"I am," Kimani confirmed, smiling softly. "I can see why you're such a great attorney. Yes, I do specialize in trauma, but I'm not licensed in the specific techniques that I think would help you, separate from the relationship and sex side of things."

"You mean, like to treat PTSD?"

"Do you think you have PTSD?" the therapist countered.

The lawyer gestured vaguely with both hands, biting her lip in embarrassment. "What else would you call...this?"

"I definitely see a trauma response, Alex," she gently agreed with her. "I just hesitate to put a label on it when you've already internalized so many others."

"Like?"

Kimani thought quickly and then began listing. "Sexual repression. Religious trauma. Internalized homophobia."

Alex furrowed her brow. "You think I'm homophobic against myself?"

"It's a very real phenomenon, and it's not uncommon."

"So, how do I work through that?" she questioned.

"By shifting your subconscious narrative around all these things. It takes work, but it's something that may be worth addressing with another therapist, not that we can't talk about it here," she added.

"I just..." Was she really going to say this? Latch on to the greatest degree of vulnerability she could muster? Honesty. Honesty is important in therapy. The more your clinician knows, the more they can help. "I…I like you. Building rapport with someone else..."

"I like working with you too, Alex." Kimani leaned forward, smiling softly. "I understand that it would be difficult to trust someone else. But like I said, there's no rush. I just wanted to give it to you to consider."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll think about it," Cabot promised, filing it away along with trial motions and the drafts of multiple opening arguments.

Kimani took a quick note. "Great." She rummaged through a stack of papers on her desk, handing Alex a packet once she'd found what she was looking for. "The one other thing I'd like to address while you're here today is this."

The blonde perused the document. "Is this more touch exercises?"

"It is. But they're for you to do on your own."

Her gaze snapped upwards to meet Kimani's non-judgmental eyes, a blush forming on her cheeks. "So, you want me to masturbate."

She gave a short laugh intended to reassure. "Not quite yet. I don't imagine you're ready." Kimani didn't even know about the shower fiasco, and yet she could tell. "Most of these touches are nonsexual in nature. And it's up to you whether you want Olivia to know."

"Yeah. Okay. Sure." She found herself once again agreeing to something she felt unsure about. "Can I ask you something semi-related?"

Kimani could tell her client wanted to change course, so she just followed her, letting Alex lead the way. "Of course."

"Olivia," Alex sighed, no longer desiring to speak about herself and her inability to even touch herself correctly, another reminder of the strides she'd yet to make. "How do I get her to open up?"

"In my experience," the therapist explained, "I've learned that it will have to be her decision, something she chooses on her own. I know it's frustrating to watch someone you care about minimize the significance of their struggles, but let's look at it like this. Olivia's discomfort with recognizing her own trauma is a trauma response unto itself, just like flashbacks or nightmares."

"I can see that, I just..." Alex shrugged, at a loss for words. "I just want to help her."

"I know you do, and you have a strong relationship. But if she's not ready to seek help, any support you give isn't going to be as effective as it could be."

"Well," she thought, "how do I expedite the process?"

"I'm going to follow that up with another question. When you...when you feel the need to be closed off and fight vulnerability, what could Olivia do for you to expedite the process?"

Alex thought of Olivia in the lobby, patiently waiting for her girlfriend's return, ready to provide whatever comfort or support she may need. "She reminds me that she loves me and she's not leaving."

"You're not the same person, Alex, but your trauma is different sides to the same coin. You're going to have to experiment with different things to see what works for her. I'd imagine some of what she needs is time, but I also see that the trust you have in her goes head to head with her inner narrative, the same way I'd expect that her love and support goes head to head with your drill sergeant."

"So...," she began her summary of what she thought Kimani was trying to say, "remind her that I feel safe with her and continue to gently ask her to talk."

The LMFT nodded. "I think that's a good plan of action for now. And I'll also keep giving her opportunities to express herself when we meet. Your healing is a process, Alex, and so is hers. There's no sure way to expedite healing, and often times, it's better not to rush it."

"Yeah, that makes sense."

Olivia had to go back to work after the appointment, but first she hugged the younger woman, telling her that she'd likely be home late and reminding her that she loved her, something that she seemed to do effortlessly. Why was Benson so good at making Alex feel loved, while the blonde was incapable of making her feel safe enough to open up? Was Alex doing something wrong, or was Kimani right? Maybe she just wasn't ready, and there really wasn't much the prosecutor could do about it. She knew love wasn't always enough. If it were, she'd be completely cured by the power of Olivia's affections by now, but unfortunately, that wasn't how things worked.

One step at a time.

"Got a call from the ADA who took the Barnett case," she announced to Olivia as she finally made it through the door after nine pm. Good thing it was Friday. "He made a deal. He might do twelve. I bet he'll get out for good behavior after six."

"I'm sorry, love," the brunette consoled softly, sitting down on the couch next to her. "Can I do anything to help?"

Alex shook her head, regret coming over her like a smothering blanket. "No, I'm fine, baby. Didn't mean to bombard you with bad news the moment you walked in. Tell me about your day." She tucked her feet under her, reaching out to massage the olive shoulder that was closest to her, as Olivia had taken off her jacket upon walking in, leaving her only in a tank top.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about Barnett…or Kimani?"

So, they were both doing it. Each woman desperately trying to ignore their own stresses and focus entirely on the other. Alex knew this wouldn't end well. Over a decade of one-sided "relationships" taught her that burnout was real, that eventually resentment builds, and she absolutely did not want either of those things for the person she loved. "I do. Just not at the moment. Still processing," she added, her fingertips playing with the wisps of hair on the nape of Benson's neck.

"Are you okay though?" Liv inquired, squeezing Alex's thigh.

"Yeah." She nodded. "Yeah," Alex stressed, letting her forehead rest against her girlfriend's. "Talk to me," she breathed. "Tell me anything," she added. "I want to hear your voice."

Olivia gave her a soft smile. "El and I set up forensic interviews with the boys and Huang. Hopefully, that'll give you a credible expert witness."

"Yeah, that's great. Thank you," Cabot whispered, her eyes wandering to Olivia's lips.

"Al," the brunette said with a hum and a small smirk, "you still here with me?"

The ADA bobbed her head up and down, her eyes clearing as she met deep chocolate orbs. "Can I kiss you?"

"Of course."

It didn't take long for the younger woman to pull herself onto Olivia's lap, her favorite position in which to kiss her. It gave her control because she was on top, but the way that her girlfriend's arms encircled her made her feel safe and adored, the combination setting up the perfect atmosphere for which to connect with the woman she loved.

After a few minutes, Olivia noticed the attorney wince, and she pulled back, her hands travelling upwards to cradle her face. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"My hip." Cabot tried to find a more comfortable position, hissing when she felt a distinctive pop, her hand instinctively travelling to the source of the pain. "My joints crack like glow sticks sometimes," she explained, knowing that besides clueing her in to the chronic pain, Liv didn't yet know the details of her struggles with constant discomfort. "You didn't do anything," she assured the detective when her expression fell. "It just happens. I was standing a lot at work today, and it just locked. It's still sore now," she said, preemptively answering Olivia's likely follow up question, "but it's just a muscle ache. I'll be fine by tomorrow."

Benson nodded, her hand traveling over the other woman's shoulder and down her arm, landing at her right hip, gentle fingertips lightly caressing pant-cladded skin. "Can I?"

Alex hummed, letting her own fingers rest over Olivia's. "Thank you."

"I'm having a hard time getting a good amount of friction," the cop told her after a minute or so. "Would you be able to take off your pajama pants?"

Alex carefully removed herself from her position straddling Olivia, letting her pants fall over her hips and pool at her ankles. She reached her hand out to her girlfriend for support as she stepped out of the wool pajama bottoms, a small grimace forming on her lips. Her hands landed on the waistband of her underwear, and she worried her lower lip. Liv let her hand rest over one of Alex's, giving her a reassuring look.

"We would leave your underwear on, and I promise I'd only touch your hip."

Olivia was safe.

Olivia was safety, personified.

She smiled. "Pull them down. Make it a touch exercise."

The detective wasn't sure what to think, and she definitely wasn't sure if this was a wise idea. "Then we have to talk first. Your hip is—"

"—a part of my body I'm comfortable with you touching."

Liv pulled her by the hand to sit back down on the couch. "How about we use one of my clips to clip the fabric together? That way we have more room, but it still feels safe for you."

"That's a good idea."

The older woman bobbed her head. "Remember, there's no need to rush any of this." After a shallow nod of agreement, Olivia spoke again. "Do you want to lie down in the bed to be more comfortable?"

It was official. Olivia thought of everything.

She collected a hair clip from their bathroom and handed it to her girlfriend, the blonde lying down on her side and bunching the segment of her underwear over her hip together and placing the clip over the lowest portion of her side, leaving the entire area of her hip exposed.

Olivia lied down in front of her, also on her side. "I'm going to trace my finger lightly in a circle over the area I want to massage. You tell me if it's too much or if you want more."

Alex closed her eyes at the contact, causing the older woman to pause her movements. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She swallowed, her tongue protruding just slightly in order to lick her lips. "It—you feel good."

Liv smiled, letting her free hand tangle in Alex's flaxen hair. This grounded both of them, and Alex always needed comfort when she pushed boundaries. "You really have been touch-starved your entire life, huh?"

She tried to say "Mhm", but it sounded more like a whimper.

"Sorry, I probably shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's important that we talk about whatever comes up for us during these exercises," Alex pointed out, opening her eyes. "And you're right, I'm really not used to healthy touch at all. I'm getting there, but I'm just trying to savor it, which is why I close my eyes. You're good to use more pressure," she added, remembering one of the prompts on their packet of information about the exercises.

"I promise that this isn't some novelty that's going to end." The brunette let her fingers dig more deeply into the tight muscles below her hand, carefully watching her girlfriend for signs of distress. "I'm happy to do this for you forever if that's what you want. I understand why you have the urge to savor it, but I don't want you to take up space in your mind when I touch you worrying it will be the last time. We decided to make this a touch exercise, but I don't see it as a chore. Being close to you is a gift. Does this feel good, by the way?"

Alex nodded. There was something about one of Olivia's hands gently massaging her hip and the other scratching lightly against her scalp that felt like infinite contact. Like it was no longer clear where one of them ended and the other began. They were one, and though nothing about this moment was inherently sexual, Alex couldn't help but think about the words her mother had spoken to her about sex almost twenty years ago. When she'd spoken of tenderness and love, was Jean Cabot uttering an unfulfilled wish aloud? Something that Alex, until very recently, had accepted as her own fate? The feelings that this type of touch inspired in her were unmistakable. It doused the fire in her heart, but lit another in her body.

Seeing her eyes become slightly unfocused, Olivia decided to speak again, "You still comfortable?"

Emotional pools of blue were brought back to Detective Benson's loving gaze. "Yes, completely. My joints just need some TLC sometimes."

"Well, call me TLC Benson."

"I think I like Olivia better."

The older woman hummed. "Well, Olivia likes you too."

For the second time that evening, the ADA initiated a kiss, her eyes closing in order to commit the experience to memory.

"Try to keep them open," Liv urged her softly. "Look into my eyes and absorb the love because I'm not going anywhere. And there's a lot more where this came from. Okay?"

"Okay." After a few minutes of silent massage, the cop let her hand wander back up her girlfriend's body, cupping her cheek delicately in her hand and leaning down for a quick kiss. "Hey, Liv?"

She pulled back just far enough to get a good look at the other woman. "Yeah, sweetie?"

"I love you," Alex whispered, squeezing the brunette's bicep.

Olivia smiled, the thumb of her hand brushing over Cabot's pursed lips, the younger woman pressing a series of kisses to the pad of the finger. "I love you too."

"Can I ask for something?" the blonde asked eventually.

"Always."

She sighed. "I need you to try to open up more in therapy."

"Al—"

"Just here me out, baby. Please." Olivia nodded for her girlfriend to continue. "I know you want to focus on me and the healing I need to do, but Olivia, there is not a finite amount of support in our relationship. There's no reason why your healing would detract from mine. In fact, I think my healing is deeply connected to yours. Honey, I'm never going to force you to talk or ask you do something you're not ready for, but I know you're hurting. I know you're struggling. I can read you as well as you can read me. You've been taught to hate yourself, to fear who you are, but Liv—I'm not afraid. I trust you based on real experienced evidence. I know my love and trust can only go so far though. If you open up to Kimani, she can start giving you tools to unlearn the toxic narrative you've internalized, just like I'm unlearning my fear and distrust and self-hatred. Our relationship can't be healthy without two partners putting in the work. And beyond all of that, you deserve help, sweetheart. And the first step is admitting that you're having a hard time."

Olivia struggled for a few seconds to find words, settling on a canned response. "But that's not your fault."

"I know, Liv," the lawyer said, quieting her voice and shifting so that she could wrap her arms around the woman she loved, for the first time acknowledging she had a choice, and choosing to be the caretaker, the warning of her drill sergeant not needed. Alex could wear many hats, and to change them was as simple as taking one off and putting on the other. She could put on the big spoon hat whenever she wanted, but she could also choose to take it off. It was freedom, and the naan bread fiasco now felt like child's play. The younger woman let the knuckles of her hand brush over Olivia's cheek. "Honey, you've convinced yourself that I'm blaming myself for your pain, but I know how far back it goes. I'm not the stressor, just the trigger. It's not going to get better until you can face it, and trust me—I know how hard it is. But you're not alone anymore either. You matter, Olivia Benson. Your trauma matters as much as mine does."

For the first time, Alex could see Olivia consider her words. She could see the cop's wall begin to crumble—a small amount, but it was progress nonetheless—and tears came to the older woman's eyes as she recognized the care she'd been resisting. She wasn't all the way there, but like Alex, her strides would be made one second at a time. "How did I get so lucky?"

"I ask myself the same question every day."

As their lips met, Alex reminded herself that this would be a process for both of them, the act of listening no where near as difficult for either of them as allowing themselves to be heard. Olivia was on her own journey, but by some luck of the draw—or fate, or karma—their paths had crossed, and they would make their way to the promised land together, second by second.

One kiss at a time.

A/N: Thank you as always for reading and sharing your thoughts! Be safe!