A.N. Some sensitive subject matter in this story. I wanted to explore an alternate version of episode 13x13. I wondered how it would've affected Olivia had Eddie died during that standoff with police. When I watched the episode, I felt like Olivia saw a little bit of herself in Eddie.

To be honest, I don't know where this story came from. It started as something small and ballooned into a 10,000 word hot mess. I've been very unsure about posting this and tried my best to handle the subject matter in it with care. Also, sorry if my version of Olivia is a little…aggressive. I've always struggled with characterization for her.

*Content Warning: Suicide Discussed (Brief)*


Chapter 1

A clean shirt and a fresh breeze weren't enough to assuage her guilt. The absence of his blood wasn't going to make her forget. He was too young, had so much time.

That edge, it was tempting. The other side promised peace and an escape from darkness. She put a hand over her heart and closed her eyes, taking a breath. Sometimes, she wondered if it still beat.

It did. Today, it did.

She stuffed her hands in her pockets. The wind swept through the open collar of her button down and over her skin, but she didn't mind its chill. Like her thoughts her body numbed.

The very top of the Manhattan skyline disappeared into low-hanging clouds and she closed her eyes. From the void in her mind's eye an old memory resurfaced, of metal's callous chill against her skin. Her brow twitched in its furrow. 'Not that.' She steeled her jaw as though it would make the memory disappear and dry her watering eyes.


"You mind if I stop by?"

"Sure. I should be there around 5. You can eat whatever's in the fridge."


Olivia's Apartment—15:00

Alex wandered out of the kitchen with a mug in her grasp.

She'd texted Olivia on a whim, hopeful and expectant. She knew Olivia well enough to predict her responses, but she still held her breath waiting for Olivia's reply. Olivia rarely turned her away without a good reason, but after weeks of the same routine she was bound to wear out her welcome eventually.

A strong friendship that blurred the lines. They'd always had that. But when did it go too far? When their interactions became too familial? Or when she pulled Olivia's keys out of her coat pocket in the Squad Room, having to pass them to her like a drug dealer slipping drugs to a client?

She had a pair of shoes by Olivia's door, clothes she'd "forgotten" to take home lying somewhere in the closets, and even a favorite mug in the cabinet.

"Lawyers Suck!" That's what it said. Olivia bought it as a joke and used it at work for a year or so, until it became too priceless to be left on her desk around a bunch of coworkers who learned the hard way that they couldn't walk through objects.

The mug had switched owners now, and some of the detectives caught her drinking out of it if they stopped by Olivia's apartment.

"Counselor?"

The conversation always started that way as they peered through the open doorway, and it was hard to find a good excuse for her presence at nine at night. So, she acknowledged them head on with a wave but never joined the conversation.

"Hey Alex."

That's what they said now. Was it a stretch to say they were still buying the "we're good friends" excuse? It wasn't wrong, just an understatement.

Since her return from Africa many of her visits to the apartment became overnight stays. At first it wasn't on purpose. She'd stop by in the evening and stay until she found herself dozing off. Once Olivia noticed she wouldn't let her go home alone, and soon, forcing herself to go home became much harder. The apartment was always warm as she imagined a home should be, cozy and welcoming, but without Olivia it would just be another place. She knew that.

Those nights she stayed, nothing happened between them; Olivia never forced her to leave, yet this Olivia was different. The jaded look in her eyes, her hesitant smiles, and the occasional uncertain glance, none had gone unnoticed. Olivia said less, hesitated to hug her. Maybe it was just too late for them. That could've been true, but Alex refused to believe it. Even if Olivia wouldn't acknowledge what simmered in the air, there was still a connection between them.

She smiled when Olivia came home from work.

A person walking through a door, the action was so simple but so different when that person was someone she wanted and hoped to see. She hid her smile behind a cup or mug before Olivia caught her swooning like an idiot. How the little things meant so much now, and how Olivia's presence at the end of the day relaxed away tension she didn't know she carried. It both confused and concerned her.

Most days the detective entered with a sigh; the clink of Olivia's keys against the ceramic dish starting a small shudder down Alex's back and an awkward, wimpish feeling stirring in her gut. She didn't belong in the apartment, it wasn't her place to impose, and for the first few moments of Olivia's entrance, she gauged Olivia's response to her presence—a few texts could easily be forgotten by the end of a twelve hour shift.

"What are you doing here?" Alex waited for the day Olivia entered the apartment, stopped in her tracks, and asked that. She was never more thankful for Olivia's simple "Hey". In a soft tone, Olivia always greeted her in the same friendly manner and Alex tried to breathe her sigh inconspicuously.

"I cooked something…"

Olivia would muster a smile and glance to the kitchen. "I see that…"

"How's the case?"

Alex would stand and wander, following Olivia through the apartment as easy banter flowed between them. She'd stop at the bedroom doorway and lean.

Olivia would pull the gun and its holster from her belt, locking it in a small safe, something she never used to do; the nightstand drawer was the old spot for both but she never asked why that changed. From that doorway Alex listened to Olivia, some of the words and case details going over her head as she struggled to focus on anything but the woman meandering about the room, stripping off a watch here, earrings there. Alex noted what she saw, like how Olivia walked with heavier steps, as though she constantly carried a weight on her shoulders. Alex watched her with a gentle heaviness in her chest; her arms itching to hold Olivia again; the warmth of Olivia's body, she needed to feel it close. "Rest", she'd say to the woman in her arms. Olivia looked so tired.

When Olivia finally stripped off her blazer she left. It didn't matter if they both knew how the other looked without clothes. Staying as Olivia undressed, it didn't seem right anymore. Olivia wasn't hers. She screwed up her chance with Liv a long time ago.

Between rooms they'd carry on the conversation. Back and forth she'd slowly pace in the living room, a habit born from her guilt. The television mumbled in front of her but she wasn't interested. She'd force herself to sit, and at the edge of her seat with her hands folded in her lap, she stole a few glances to the bedroom doorway; her responses to Olivia's statements concise and neutral; nothing in her voice to hint at the chaos in her mind.

If she'd stayed at the bedroom door would Olivia have shut her out? Would Olivia make an excuse and close the door in her face? Or would she ask her to leave?

Alex never tested her luck and Olivia never closed the door, simply emerged from the bedroom moments later in a t-shirt and some lounge pants.

"You okay?"

Olivia saw right through her, and a hand would squeeze Alex's shoulder as Olivia passed the couch on her way to the kitchen. That touch always enlivened her hope and made her smile. She was back for good this time, to the one place she missed the most.


Alex headed to the couch and set her tea on the coffee table in front of the television.

"Breaking news. We have an update on the standoff at Sandow films. 57th street is still blocked off by police. Our news correspondent Jennifer Reeves is at the scene. Jennifer."

"Right Nancy, it's been 2 hours now. Manhattan police are not releasing any more updates or speaking to press. We know the suspect is the son of Kurt Sandow, owner of Sandow films. According to outside sources, two shots were fired, and one victim was taken to Mercy hospital."

Alex picked up the remote and turned down the television's volume. "Does anything good happen anymore?"

*Ding*

Her phone buzzed before she could settle on the couch. She grabbed it off the kitchen counter and eyed the notification of a message from an unknown number. Against her better judgement she opened the message.

Hey, it's Amaro. Liv needs someone right now. She won't talk to me or Rollins. Look, it's been a hell of a day for us. Just see how she's doing.

'Liv needs someone?' Alex stopped in the middle of the room. What the hell happened? How did Amaro have her number?

Of course…shit always hit the fan when she wasn't working.

She navigated to Olivia's number and set the phone to her ear, more than ready to rat out Amaro for thinking he could get involved in Olivia's personal affairs. He knew nothing about her, hadn't known her long enough to speak on her behalf.

"You've reached Olivia Benson. Please leave a message."

Straight to voicemail. Alex's brow furrowed.

"A second ambulance left the scene about forty minutes ago. No word on who was inside. However, police do appear to be packing up…"

Alex glanced to the TV and dialed the number of the next person that came to mind.

"Tutuola."

"Hey, it's me. I got a strange message from Amaro about Liv. Is she okay?" Alex slowly paced the living room.

"Yeah Yeah. She was a little shaken up, but she's good."

"Shaken up? By what?"

A pause silenced the other end. "There was a hostage situation today…"

Alex glanced to the TV.

"…the kid shot himself right in front of her—"

"The Sandow place?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"It's all over the news." Alex sighed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Didn't know you and Liv were…good."

He was choosing his words carefully and keeping his voice low.

"Are you two…"

"I'm coming in." She hung up before he could finish his thought, already pushing her way into the bedroom.

The light in the closet clicked on and she pulled on the first decent clothes she saw; a crisp shirt and a pair of jeans she tightened to her waist with a saddle brown belt. The jeans fit looser, clung, yet hung in the most comfortable way.

She grabbed a coat off the rack beside the front door and hurried from the apartment, her tea still hot on the living room table beside her book.


"You've reached Olivia Benson. Please leave a message."

Again, straight to voicemail.

Phone clutched in one hand against the car's steering wheel, Alex turned into the precinct's parking lot at the back of the building, her stomach beginning a roil as she parked and stepped out, bracing against New York's winter chill with a tug of her coat.

She started to the front of the building, not thinking to bring her badge so she could enter through the staff entrance connected to the parking lot.

A gray sky hung above her; the sidewalk at her feet wet, stained with the remnants of melting snow left from earlier in the week.

She pulled the door open and on the other side the precinct still bustled with life; the atmosphere hastening her steps. She embraced the hustle and stiffened her resolve, preparing to meet the strange look Olivia would give her when she walked into the squad room on her day off.

Alex turned the corner, entering the arena that was their Squad Room. The phones rang less at four in the evening than they did in the afternoon. Office chatter stayed at an even level as the keystrokes of a lone keyboard sounded. Employees entered and exited around her, their daytime hustle just starting to drag as many survived their last hour before heading home.

Amaro's message stirred in her mind, and her eyes found Olivia's empty desk.

The red-headed prosecutor standing at the whiteboard was the first familiar face and her first target. Casey scanned the board of case clues and pictures, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Where's Liv?" Alex's words shot out, turning a few heads but Casey didn't flinch. "Why is she not answering her phone?"

"I have no idea." Casey's eyes stayed glued to the board, her hand lifting to her chin.

Alex brushed past her without a word, examining Olivia's desk. She scoffed at the cellphone laying on top. "Damn it Liv." She sniped under her breath and pocketed the phone. 'Since when does she leave without her phone.'

A manila folder lying on the desk across from Liv's titled "Sandow" caught her attention. She moved to Amaro's desk and flipped through the folder. A set of photos stopped her. They would've made a normal person recoil but after so many years a dull pit in her stomach was the only sign of her humanity. She looked through them, her hand stopping and her jaw clenching at a picture of a red-headed boy with a GSW to the side of his head. 'Jeez.'

Casey turned from the board. "Hey, tell me what you think about this—"

"Not now."

Casey's brow furrowed. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Alex closed the folder and turned from the desk but ignored her, catching Fin's gaze as he entered the squad room, greeting her with a lift of his chin.

"She's in the break room." Fin read her mind. Although, after so many years it was hardly reading. He knew about them, everyone on the old team did. Even if they never admitted it, she always had a hunch; Olivia wasn't as inconspicuous as she liked to believe, her wandering eyes told more than she knew.

Alex trusted Fin, weaving between the desks and to the break room on the squad room's opposite end. She stopped in the doorway.

Empty chairs and tables, the sight made her inwardly groan.

She backtracked and met Fin at his desk before he had a chance to sit. "She's not in there—"

"Am I missing something?" Casey cut in but they continued their conversation.

"That's where I last saw her. Maybe Amaro has something else."

"Where is he?"

They all glanced to Amaro's desk.

"That's right. Him and Rollins are running the streets, trying to I.D. some Jane Does for the Midnight Strangler case." Fin gestured to the whiteboard with a nod.

"You said he shot himself in front of her?" Alex watched him with sharp eyes; Casey eyeing the conversation from over Alex's shoulder. "She was alone in the room with him?"

"Yeah, trying to talk him down. According to Amaro, she really thought it would work. She was the only one he trusted. He let her in, wouldn't listen to anyone else." A sympathetic tone lingered on his words and in his eyes. "Kid was barely nineteen—"

"The Sandow case?" Casey chimed in but no one answered. "What about it?"

Alex clenched her jaw and averted her gaze. Unarmed, in the room with an unstable suspect. Olivia took risks that threatened to make her heart stop. Alex stepped forward, ready to push past him when Fin caught her shoulder and came close, his back to Casey.

"Kid's father was a rapist." He spoke only within her ear shot. "You know Liv's story." He let her go and she marched out of the squad room.

Yeah, she knew the story…what Olivia mumbled of it. Anyone who'd been in the precinct long enough pieced together Olivia's past, through strewn gossip about the SVU detective whose own father was a rapist. Some felt bad for Olivia—a tragic person with a tragic past. For others her story touched a heroic note, and she became the SVU detective whose dark past strengthened her will to fight injustice. Though the latter was closer to the truth, Olivia hated the pity her past brought from others. Her eyes darkened when her past was questioned, typically by some newcomer who hadn't learned the unspoken rule—Don't ask Detective Benson about her past. A person only needed to be told once.


"You're not very understanding detective. Your father must've neglected you."

One of the scariest interrogations. The memory may have been a decade old, but Alex vividly recalled "the Kolton case" and the tension thickening the air that day. It nearly sucked every breathable morsel of oxygen from the interrogation room as Olivia squared off with the child predator who sat chained to the table. Questioning lasted hours, and the difficult subject matter weighed every second to a crawl. The perp refuted Olivia's every word with his sordid rationalizations and from her seat Alex watched Olivia closely. She'd never seen so much hate in Olivia's eyes.

"Don't tell me your father never gave you a goo—"

When the man mentioned Olivia's father a second time, the twitch of the detective's eye was all Alex needed to react. Olivia would've launched across the table and slammed the guy's head into its surface if she hadn't grabbed her.

In the hall outside the room she held the fuming detective still.

"You're done. Elliot can handle the rest."

Teeth clenched, Olivia wouldn't look at her, wanting to jump back in and see to the perpetrator's quick incarceration.

"Honestly, I should've pulled you out sooner."

A squeeze to her shoulders and Olivia slowly came to her senses and calmed. That wasn't the first time she saved Olivia from a trip to Internal Affairs.


The women's bathroom, Alex's first stop. She pushed the door open, her heart thumping gently in her chest.

A quiet and cool place, they met here on many occasions with heavy hearts and silenced lips. They never wanted to discuss the hard cases, yet it was all they could talk about, a way of working through the situation. At the middle sink Olivia would splash some water on her face and brace the rim with her hands. She'd hang her head, not allowing more than a supportive hand on her back before she looked up and let apathy take her eyes—a cop's mask.

They had to stay levelheaded. Justice wouldn't be served if they lost themselves in their emotions. But when was a case too much?

Olivia's anguish radiated from her silent being at that sink. Her repressed anger, loathing, and disgust for the perpetrators stilled the air.

"How do we do it Alex?"

"…because we have to."

Ten to fifteen minutes. That's how long it took before Olivia was back on her feet and ready to tackle the case again. That should've been the first red flag.

Alex glanced under the stalls and scanned the room. No feet present and the middle sink was empty.

She backed out and paced down the precinct hall with swift steps, a furrow creasing her brow. 'I swear to God Liv…'

"Hi Ms. Cabot."

"How's it going?"

"Hey Alex."

Pleasantries from the precinct staff went over her head and unacknowledged as her feet carried her through the corridors. Those people didn't matter, just mere shapes in a blurred world, their conversations irrelevant and incoherent.

The heavy glass doors to the precinct, where Manhattan bustled on the other side. She'd ended up back at the entrance, standing in the middle of the foyer as she tried to harness the weak breath in her chest, and stave off the defeat that threatened to consume her. She'd find Liv eventually, just had to calm down and keep her thoughts clear.

'Maybe she left. I should see if her car's in the lot.'

By chance she glanced to the uniformed officer working the front desk, and their eyes connected. An older cop, mid to late fifties. She'd seen him over the years, from her very first day. He had to know her from the vast amount of in and out trips she made from the D.A.'s office. Marty, that might've been his name.

'He wouldn't know.' Alex looked back to the doors.

"Something I can do for you?" He surprised her with a thick New York accent, reminding her of how little she'd heard him speak.

"If you're looking for Detective Benson she headed up."

Her focus perked and her eyes brightened at the mention of Olivia. Alex met his gaze again.

So, the old guy was more observant than she thought. He so easily gave her the answer she needed; his tone nonchalant, like there was nothing to worry about. Alex took a breath and approached the desk, hoping he couldn't see her inner struggle on her face.

"What?" Her brow furrowed. "Headed up?"

"Yeah, up the service stairs." He pointed to a spot across the room and Alex turned to where his finger directed.

A gray service door in the corner of the foyer. She'd never paid attention to what was behind it. As far as she knew it was nothing more than a staircase for maintenance staff. 'What could Liv—" Her eyes widened.

Those stairs, they led to the roof.

She took off for the door, her coattails afloat behind her.

Liv wouldn't. But...

That dull pit in her stomach soured and twisted.

Liv never headed to the roof…and Liv also had unpredictable moments. That sent a shiver down her back. She had to ignore it and push forward.

Alex pulled open the door, eyeing the iron staircase that spiraled above her. The enclosed brick space dark and dank, housing architecture reminiscent of New York's early days.

'Liv is fine.'

She said the mantra in her head with each step, a part of her wondering from where the frantic thoughts manifested. Another part of her screamed at them to shut up. Those thoughts twisted reality and only made everything worse.

'She's fine.'

The service door opened behind her.

"Find her?"

Alex grimaced at Fin's echoing voice. Did it look like Olivia was standing beside her? No, and she wasn't climbing this staircase for fun. "How long has it been since you've seen her?"

"An hour, maybe two."

Fin's voice followed like an afterthought in the air behind her as she hurried up the stairs, not caring about his footsteps clamoring to catch up, matching her haste. "You never thought to check on her—"

"Hey, don't get pissed off at me. She said she needed a minute—"

"And everyone let her go." Alex scoffed under her breath.

"What did you want us to do? If Liv doesn't want to talk, she won't. You know that."

Alex latched onto the railing and turned to him, her blue eyes boring into his like daggers from beneath her furrowed brow. "Look, I can't trust those new detectives to have her back. But you, you've known her as long as I have. You had to know something was off. You should've stayed with her." Alex turned back and started up.

"She said she was fine. Just wanted some air—"

"She could've gone for a walk."

"She has rough days, she moves on, we all do. Comes with the job Counselor."

Alex didn't dignify Fin's answer with a response. Liv never "moved on". Maybe it appeared that way to everyone else, but Liv didn't forget. It was a gift but also her undoing. "She turns her phone off, leaves it on the desk, walks up God knows how many steps…does this look "fine" to you?"

Alex reached the last floor and pushed open the roof access door as soon as she made it.

A gust of air kicked back her hair and rustled through her clothing as she stepped out and looked around. If Liv wasn't here, she wasn't sure where she'd look next.

She froze.

Sure enough, overlooking Manhattan stood the detective. Her hand lying idle on the perimeter wall at the edge of the building, separating her from the demise hundreds of feet below. Passing sirens and honks of car horns filled the air. Just a normal NYC atmosphere, but right now it sounded so much louder.