Chapter 7 – Carry That Weight
A/N: "Carry That Weight" is the title of a song from the Beatles' album Abbey Road
It was Saturday, but the SVU squadroom was still half-full.
"How many pictures?" Olivia glanced at her partner, who sat opposite her at his desk. He cocked his head curiously and she held up a stalling hand. "The whole hard drive? I thought you said it was sixty gigs…really. Really. Okay. Thanks." She hung up and looked Elliot in the eye. "Pooler's been busy. The entire hard drive was full of files relating to Serena. Her schedule, personal information, pictures, movies. There was even a slide show with music."
"A regular Leibowitz," snarked Elliot. He checked his watch, saw that it was going on five. He'd promised to be home for an early dinner. "You gonna be here for a while?" he asked Olivia.
She tossed Brian Pooler's credit history on her desk. "We're not going to catch him through paperwork." She grabbed her overcoat and followed her partner outside.
"Dinner?" Elliot offered.
"Uh…" Olivia fingered the squad car keys in her pocket. "No thanks, El."
"All right. Tell Serena hi for me."
"You don't—" Elliot was already walking to his car. He tossed a wave over his shoulder.
Olivia stood in confusion for a few moments, glancing back and forth between the squad car and the station house. "Aw, hell with it," she snarled, and got in the same dark sedan she had used to drive Serena home that morning.
Olivia had slept lightly, very aware of the warm body next to her. The police naturally guarded their own, including the city's prosecutors, but Olivia's protectiveness of the ADA went beyond the fact of her job.
Alex, Alex, look at me. You're going to be just fine.
She wasn't dead. Not really. Olivia still felt like she had failed.
Alex Cabot would have been the last person to admit that she needed some kind of champion to stand up for her, but Olivia couldn't help but subconsciously assume that role. Alex hadn't had a gun or bulletproof vest, just a savvy legal mind and a strong will. It had been Olivia's place to make up for what Alex couldn't fight on her own, and she hadn't even seen it coming. Maybe it was because Alex was a woman, maybe it was because Olivia had harbored deep-seated feelings for her; whatever the reason, Alex had represented strength and solidarity. She had been like a touchstone for Olivia.
It didn't help that Serena acted so much like Alex at times, to the point of matching her bullheaded stubbornness. Serena had confessed that she hadn't bothered to contact Victim's Services because she had been determined to work through everything on her own. Her boss, Jack McCoy, had suspected something was amiss when he found her in the morning, face-down on her desk, three days in a row. He hadn't pressed the issue at the time, but Arthur Branch called her into his office for a little sit-down during which he mentioned "enforced vacation." Technically, she wasn't supposed to go within a hundred meters of One Hogan Place for the next few days.
"Then where were you going?" Olivia had asked.
"To work," Serena had admitted.
It had to be different with Serena.
Olivia had woken up first, disentangled herself from a lightly snoring Serena Southerlyn, and had taken a quick shower. She had emerged from the bathroom, rubbing her head with a towel, to find Serena sitting on the edge of the bed looking refreshed, albeit rumpled. Olivia had made Serena a cup of coffee, let her run through the bathroom, and dropped her off before heading to SVU.
Now it was back to Serena's place. The doorman recognized Olivia and let her in with a quaint tip of his hat. She took the stairs to Serena's floor, knocked, and waited.
"Detective Benson," said Serena with a pleasant smile. "What news on the Rialto?"
Olivia raised an eyebrow. "I was just checking up on you."
Serena pressed her cheek against the door as she spoke. "I appreciate it." She stepped to one side and gestured. "Come in."
"Thanks," said Olivia. She stepped into the apartment proper, hands tucked in her pockets. There were no visible hints at the wealth backing the Southerlyn name; everything had been boxed up. "You're moving," she noted.
"Yeah. It's kind of spooky, being here alone at night," said Serena. She snorted and added, "Even spookier now, I guess, with Brian skulking around God knows where." She padded into the kitchen. "Can I offer you a drink? I don't know if you're still on duty…" The sound of clinking bottles carried into the living room.
"I'm fine, thanks," said Olivia. She sat on the plush couch, which faced a moderately-sized TV.
Serena emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later with a steaming mug in her hand. She sat next to Olivia and sipped her drink slowly. "I've been meaning to thank you," she said, looking down at her coffee.
"For what?"
"For taking care of me last night. And understanding. I know it's your job, but you make it seem like it's not." She turned her head, looked somberly at the detective. "You and Detective Stabler have made it a lot easier. I mean, my parents, while sympathetic, have never been what you might call…accommodating. They had their own ideas about how to handle this mess."
"Parents can be like that," agreed Olivia.
"Were your parents overwhelmingly overbearing too?" Serena asked with a smile.
That familiar sense of discomfort sprang up in Olivia's stomach. "I never knew my dad. My mom was pretty wonderful, though."
"Oh…right. Right. I'm sorry. I mean, not that your mom was great. That was a personal question to ask," Serena apologized. She stopped speaking abruptly in an effort to stem the unusually awkward flow of words.
"It's okay," said Olivia. She adjusted herself on the couch so that she was looking directly at Serena. "But speaking of personal questions, can I ask you something?"
"Sure," said Serena slowly.
In her most piercing tone of voice, Olivia asked, "How are you holding up? Honestly."
"Aside from my complete breakdown last night…" Serena trailed off. She felt a compulsion to be honest with the detective sitting next to her. She wasn't a liar by nature, but Olivia Benson had an earnest quality that made Serena want to open up. She pulled a wry face. "Honestly?" A pause to gather herself, organize her words. But then she decided to simply speak. Detective Benson didn't care if she was eloquent.
"I feel like shit. Sometimes I think I'm going to jump out of my own skin. I just want this feeling of having to always look over my shoulder to go away. And I'm scared that it never will, that I won't be able to move on. I mean, as soon as I start to feel like I can be on my own again, bullshit like this happens and…" She flapped her hands helplessly against her thighs. To her surprise, she felt wetness gathering in the corners of her eyes. Damn the woman for being able to do this to her.
"It gets better, Serena. Maybe not right now, but if you can just get through this minute, this hour, this day, you'll be fine," Olivia reassured her, leaning forward, closing the space between them. "You fought back yesterday. Hang on to that feeling."
Serena put her drink down so she could gesture freely. "What if I can't? I've always had to buck up, be strong, and I don't think that I can do it anymore…" She covered her face with both hands, trying to hide her tears while she blinked them away. Serena sat up straight and palmed her eyes roughly. "Sorry," she sniffled, offering Olivia a watery smile.
"You don't have to apologize." Olivia looked around until she spotted an idle paper towel. She handed it to Serena, who took it gratefully and wiped her nose. She crumpled the used towel and tossed it into an open, empty box; then, feeling oddly vulnerable without something in her hands, she picked up her coffee again. She tapped the side of the mug with one nervously shredded fingernail.
"Are you sure you don't want anything? Don't cops live on coffee?" Serena asked. It felt like a delaying tactic. Delaying what, Serena wasn't sure.
Olivia could see the ADA wouldn't be deterred from small pleasantries. "Coffee would be nice," she said.
Serena seemed almost grateful for the task as she slipped into the kitchen, taking a mug from its bubble wrap and filling it from the percolating pot. "Sugar?" she called out.
"I'll take it black," said Olivia, standing just outside of the small dining area.
Serena started visibly. Hot liquid sloshed over the edge of the mug. "Shit," she said, hands braced on the counter.
"I didn't mean to sneak up on you," said Olivia, who might have been amused by Serena's jumpiness if it weren't a by-product of being brutally raped.
"That's okay," said Serena breathily. She grabbed a dirty rag, wiped up the spill. "Here you go." She handed off the coffee.
"Are you—"
"Let's just agree that I'm in something of a transition period," Serena interrupted. "How about we talk about you for a change?"
"Okay," said Olivia agreeably.
"Okay." Serena brushed past the detective and flopped onto the couch, feet curled underneath her body.
Olivia followed, coffee in hand. She sat down next to Serena, head tilted curiously. "So. What do you want to know?"
"Hm? Oh, no. I've already invaded your privacy once tonight. I just didn't feel like rehashing all my fear-driven insecurities," said Serena glibly. "But please, feel free to share all your most embarrassing secrets."
"I don't know if we have time for all of them," said Olivia, offering a toothy grin. She was suddenly very glad she hadn't accepted Serena's offer of something more intoxicating than coffee, because she was perilously close to flirting with a rape victim. Falling asleep next to the counselor had been disconcerting; she had felt as if she were doing something unseemly. It had felt like a betrayal.
Alex, look at me.
Her smile faded.
"Something wrong?" Serena asked, watching Olivia go from lighthearted to somber.
"Just memories," said Olivia.
"They don't seem to be the happy, idyllic kind," Serena noted. "Not that the SVU is a happy, idyllic place."
"No, it's not." Olivia fought to shut down emotionally. She refused to use this woman for sympathy. She had talked to her partner, she had talked to Huang; she didn't need to talk to an emotionally vulnerable and insecure victim.
"How long have you been with the unit?" Serena asked, trying not to sound too curious.
Olivia opened her mouth, closed it. "A while," she said at last. "Why?"
"It's…" Serena seemed to search the air in front of her for words. "I was in civil investigations. The only dead bodies I saw were on the national news. Even prosecuting homicides, everything is distilled. There's always that distance. And when we speak for the victims, it's because they couldn't speak even if they wanted to. You come face-to-face with living victims all the time and they all have a story. How do you not lose yourself in the fray?
Olivia pursed her lips. "I won't lie. Some days, it gets to be a little too much."
"And on days like those…" Serena prompted.
"I usually end up at a bar with the guys. We end up three sheets to the wind trying to forget and have a hell of a time at work the next day," said Olivia.
Serena eyebrows knitted together with concern. "That's it? You get drunk?"
"Well, Elliot has his family. Munch is…Munch. Fin seems to get along with his friends and I think he's got some relatives stashed somewhere." Olivia rubbed her eyebrow self-consciously. This was not how she had envisioned any conversation with Southerlyn.
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
Serena shrugged. "So that's all you do to cope. Go out with your friends."
"You a shrink too, counselor?" Olivia asked, not a little defensively.
"Do you always let victims stay the night?" Serena retorted.
"All right. It's been a long day—"
"It's not even six o'clock."
"And you've obviously got a lot to think about—"
"Actually, I just took my medication."
"So I think I'm gonna go." Olivia put down her now-lukewarm coffee and braced herself to get up, but Serena laid a hand on her arm.
"I'm sorry if I crossed a line. I just want to know why you've taken all this time to help me," said Serena softly.
Olivia stared at Serena's hand and the blonde withdrew it contritely. Olivia felt sorry for snapping at her. "You remind me of someone I used to know," she said, looking down at her knees. She ran her thumb under the delicate chain around her neck, coming to the single diamond pendant resting at the base of her throat.
Serena had her guesses, but waited for Olivia to speak first. She didn't want to jump the gun in an already tense conversation.
"She was about your age. Stubborn. Smart." The corner of Olivia's mouth twitched. "Occasionally annoying as hell."
"It's a by-product of being right so often," Serena quipped. She watched as Olivia continued to fiddle with her necklace. "Did she give you that necklace?"
Olivia let her gaze drift in Serena's general direction. "Yes," she whispered.
"I never really met Alex Cabot," said Serena.
The detective's eyes snapped into focus. "What makes you think I'm talking about Alex Cabot?"
Serena stared at her unblinkingly.
"She was my friend."
"Looks like she still is," said Serena evenly. She switched tacks. "Is that why I've seen more of you this weekend than my own parents? I remind you of your friend?"
"A lot of things remind me of Alex," said Olivia truthfully. She had told Huang about her guilt and the trauma of losing her friend, but some things she had kept private, like her latent attraction for the ADA. She was sure Huang had deduced it from their shotgun sessions, but he hadn't said anything and neither had she. Now she was about to tell all to a relative stranger. It was a frightening, intoxicating feeling.
"Did you love her?"
"I never got the chance to find out," said Olivia.
Serena crawled across the couch and tucked herself against Olivia's side. Surprised, Olivia didn't react for a few seconds, but then instinctively let her arm rest across Serena's, relaxed her shoulder under Serena's head.
"I think you loved her very much," said Serena, idly flexing her right hand. The muscles there creaked, almost snapping in protest.
"Yeah. Me too," said Olivia. It felt good to say it aloud.
"God, I wish they hadn't given me those painkillers," Serena mumbled several lazy minutes later. She rubbed her face into Olivia's shirt and stretched her legs out, eyes tightly closed. "I could really go for a drink."
"Hand still bugging you?"
"You know, the doctor said nothing was broken, but I'm disinclined to believe him at the moment," said Serena, not without humor.
"At least you won't be disobeying orders from the DA," Olivia pointed out.
Serena snorted. "I'm sure this is exactly what he had in mind: me passing out the moment the sun goes down."
"Sounds like codeine, all right," said Olivia. For the second time, she escorted Serena to bed, getting the woman to sit down while Olivia tossed her a t-shirt and pants. She turned around while Serena changed, then got her settled for the night.
Serena stared up at the detective from between her cotton sheets. "We've got to stop meeting like this," she chuckled. "Just once I'd like to talk to you without losing consciousness."
"It's okay. My exorbitant salary makes up for the lack of conversation."
Serena gifted her with a sleepy smile. "Are you leaving?"
"Are you okay to be alone?"
"Think so. Won't know 'til I try." Her eyelids were fluttering with the effort of staying awake.
Olivia watched Serena for a few moments before she realized that she had been left in something of a dilemma. "Serena," she said, kneeling by the bed and shaking the other woman. "I'm sorry to have to do this to you, but you have to see me out."
"Whassat?" Serena said, not opening her eyes.
"Serena, you have to lock the door behind me."
Serena flapped a limpid hand in protest. "Keys're in my bag."
"I can't take your keys."
"Sure y'can. L'be home all weeken'," she slurred.
"Serena—"
It was no good. The blonde was out cold.
With a sigh, Olivia heaved herself to her feet and made her way through the dimly lit apartment. She rifled through Serena's purse until her fingers unearthed a telltale ring of metal. With a last glance towards the bedroom, Olivia let herself out, locking the door behind her.
