Ava Cabot
Wellwisher
A Law and Order: SVU fic
Disclaimer: crying Please, please, please, Dick Wolf, just hook Olivia and Elliot up. It would make so many writers happy.
Note: I have no clue when Olivia Benson's birthday is, so if the date is wrong, it is my own fault.
I'm so tired of being here,
Suppressed by all my childish fears.
And if you have to leave,
I wish that you would just leave.
Because your presence still lingers here,
And it won't leave me alone.
These wounds won't seem to heal,
This pain is just too real.
There's just too much that time cannot erase.
Evanescence: My Immortal
Elizabeth Stabler POV
It's odd that I haven't seen my baby half-brother until now. Apparently, Olivia gave birth months ago, and went back to work recently, part-time only though. But from the way Maureen described him, Jonathon was every bit Dad's son, with his calm temper and familiar face shape.
Mom didn't work when I was a kid, unlike Olivia. She stayed at home with Dickie and me all-day, playing and coloring with us until Maureen and Kathleen came home. Then we'd eat dinner, most of the time without Dad there. It was a routine, one that didn't break until recently. She was the caretaker, while Dad brought in all the money that kept us fed, clothed, and busy. Everything was working out perfectly. I didn't see anything wrong, at first.
But then again, everything changed when I found out all the lies.
It ended up being Maureen that told all of us. She said that Mom and Dad were getting a divorce. That Dad had been having a more-than-friends relationship with his partner, Olivia. That Mom and Dad's marriage had been a hopeless sham since Dad had been assigned as Olivia's partner. She had replaced Mom.
I was the one who took the news the hardest. I was Daddy's girl, the baby of the family. Dickie was younger than me, and that placed some responsibility on my young shoulders. I was expected to act slightly older than my young age, taking care of Dickie if it were just the two of us.
But I was still the youngest girl, and that made me special. I was the most important female figure in his life, besides Mom.
At least, that's what I thought for the longest time.
I used to like Olivia. She was the woman in Dad's life that we never saw, like a mystery waiting to be solved, or a treasure chest to be found. Maureen had met her more than once. She told me stories about how beautiful she was. How calm and collected she could be even after seeing a victim's blood spilled out on the street. How she kept Dad from getting too emotional during every case. How perfect she was.
But when Dad arrived home every night, usually past three in the morning, I could hear the shouting and angry words he had with Mom. They would fight almost every night, loud enough to almost shake the walls.
It was a dark time for all of us.
During the fights, Dickie and I would sneak out of our rooms, crawling into bed with Maureen, who held us until we fell asleep. As the eldest, she understood what was going on the most. She promised to protect us from everything.
Olivia was beautiful, like the exotic princesses I read about in kindergarten and first grade. Princesses from faraway countries, with long dark hair and shadowy eyes. Those were my memories from my childhood. Waiting up late with Dickie for Dad to come home after dropping Olivia off at her apartment downtown before coming home to us. As a child, I wished I could have met her. Now, as a teenager, I never want to see her.
Mom accused him of caring about her more than his own family. Of course he couldn't choose. To him, Olivia and us kids came first. I wasn't sure where Mom ranked anymore.
Dad often smelled of her when he came into my room, kissing my forehead goodnight, thinking I was sound asleep. I still don't what perfume she wore, but the fragrance still lingers on his clothes. I know it's made of crushed flowers, still smelling sweet hours after it was sprayed on. I can smell peony, rose, freesia, lavender, and a hint of camellia. I can't stand the scent anymore. The smell just clings to him now, because they aren't ever apart.
I was called into the office last month. The school psychologist somehow found out about Dad's divorce and relationship with Olivia. Apparently, her husband serves on the Morris Commission, where Dad and Olivia were grilled over and threatened. Dad never told us about that. Maybe he figured it would all be for the best if we were kept in the dark.
She asked me how I felt about Dad's relationship with "Detective Benson". She asked if his "intimacy" with her made me "upset". She wanted me to rat out Dad and Olivia right there, so they could be disgracefully fired.
I remember her leaning in, eyeing me for an answer.
I lied, telling her I was okay with it.
I don't know why I have to lie so often for Dad's sake. If he wants to screw over his career, then he and Olivia can do that. He shouldn't have had to drag the rest of us into this mess. He was almost kicked out of the police force for what he did.
It's Dickie, Maureen, Kathleen, and I in this battle between Mom and Dad. We're set in No Man's Land, with Olivia. We're the territory that they dare not touch. Mom went after Olivia a while ago, and ended up in Bellevue for about a week. Olivia never pressed charges, so Mom was a free woman. Dad never forgot though.
And now that Olivia's given birth to his new child, he'll forget us too.
Special Victims Unit stationhouse
April 12
"Come on, Olivia, just eat a bite."
"I can't, for the last time. I want to feed Jonathon with a healthy body. Not one filled with too much sugar and caffeine."
John set his plate of cake down, and took the plate that Olivia refused. Dickie grabbed it eagerly, throwing his now-cleared second plate in the garbage. Dad watched him with slight interest. Dickie was happy, no doubt, and would be bouncing off the walls soon, with all that sugar he was eating.
"Ood Ake," he said, sticking his cake-filled tongue out at me.
"Oh God, that's gross," I muttered, spinning to the opposite side in Dad's chair.
"Dickie," warned Dad.
"He's just being a kid," said Fin, draining coffee from the pot. "Let him be, Elliot."
John, clearly disappointed that he couldn't tempt Olivia any further, shook his head and eyed my new stepbrother, who just stared back with Olivia's dark brown eyes.
I wondered where Maureen and Kathleen were. They were supposed to have been here two hours ago, partying and wasting time with the rest of Dad's SVU friends.
I couldn't get over how much Jon looked like Olivia. It was as if he wasn't even Dad's kid. Maureen had lied when she described him to me. He had Olivia's same round face, same dark hair, and same dark eyes, cornered with shadows even as an innocent baby. He looked back at the world through darkness, just like his mother. He was nothing like Dad, who brought light and happiness into the room. Olivia was dark and murky; the complete opposite.
I both hated and loved Olivia. I loved how she made Dad happy. Mom just argued with him so much, that eventually, even I wanted them to divorce. Olivia was beautiful and radiant, and it was comforting to know that Dad married a possible model.
But I hated how beautiful she was. Mom was a typical New York girl, with long blonde hair and bouncy eyes. Olivia was dark and torturing, making men stare at her for long hours on end, loving the way their gazes lingered. She was the Devil to Mom's angelic presence.
My new stepmother had taken over Dad's life. Was I doomed like Cinderella? Would Olivia be my cruel stepmother?
"Lizzy," said Dickie softly, kicking my chair gently. "You okay?" He swallowed quickly, the last bit of cake traveling down his throat. "You really spaced out there."
I shrugged. "I'm just wondering where Kathleen and Maureen are, that's all."
"They're probably just late," said Olivia, shifting Jon on her leg. "High school and college kids don't want to hang around a precinct all day."
I stared at Olivia. "Maybe there was traffic."
"Maybe." She paused. "Do you want to call them?"
I shuffled my feet underneath the desk. "No."
Dad glanced at the two of us. Dickie, showing off his new video game, had engrossed Munch and Fin into an hours-long lecture on the battle techniques of 1000 Corpses: Search and Destroy. I could hear electronic zombie screams vibrating from the miniscule speakers of his Game boy.
Olivia nodded, shifting her weight to support my sleepy stepbrother. He stared at me from his dreamy brown eyes, seeming to know countless things about me, my lie of a life, and my hatred of his mother.
I didn't know why I hated Olivia so much. After all, she made Dad happy. Shouldn't that make me happy too? I had a father who had finally found true love, just like in the fairy tales. He was going to live happily ever after with his new bride and new family.
What would happen to his old family, though? Would he just dump us and forget that we ever existed?
"Lizzy," said Dad, tapping my shoulder. "You okay?"
I nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm fine." I was surprised he couldn't see through my pathetic lie. He would have to be blind to see that I wasn't okay. "No, I'm not okay!" I felt like screaming. "I'm sick of all your lies. I hate Olivia and that baby. You're my Dad, not some new baby's!"
The stationhouse was silent. Dickie dropped his Game boy, staring at me with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.
"Lizzy," he said softly. "What did you say?"
"Oh my God," I whispered, clambering out of Dad's chair. "I didn't---I couldn't have---I wouldn't---I wasn't serious---"
Dad's eyes clouded over for a moment; with anger or remorse, I couldn't tell. Olivia stopped playing with Jon, passing him down to Munch, who carried the little brat away.
"Liz," she started.
"Elizabeth," I snapped. "Don't call me Liz."
She stopped, taking care for what her next words were going to be. "I know you're angry at me, but if you'll just say why---"
"I shouldn't have to say why," I cried, my voice rising higher and higher. I took loud, gulping breaths between choked-back tears. "You made Mom so unhappy, keeping Dad all to yourself. He had a family, and you ruined everything. I hate you. I hate you!"
That was when the chair toppled to the ground. I could see the swinging doors---so close---as my escape route. I ran, light as the wind, and threw the doors open. I could hear Dickie and Fin shouting for me to stop. Upstairs, I heard Jon begin to cry.
But what hurt the most was that Dad wasn't coming after me; it was Olivia.
I don't remember how I ended up at the graveyard. Maybe because it was the closest thing I could run into, with Olivia still tracking me. I could hear her breathing, stopping briefly to call Dad and check in. He was downtown, checking in with my friends.
As if they'd rat me out.
Olivia's voice was worn with fatigue. Deep down, I knew it was wrong to make her chase me. She was still probably exhausted from being pregnant, and was weak from feeding Jon. She wasn't up to par with Dad and the rest of the team. That was probably why she was still on desk duty, resting until she was strong enough to go back to regular work.
I didn't realize the selfish extent of my words until I stumbled over a small gravestone, skinning my knee and falling backwards into the ground. Underneath me, a small bouquet of camellias and roses crunched from my weight. Cursing under my breath, I hit the stone, faintly hearing my knuckles crack.
"Stupid grave," I muttered.
Clambering around the cold granite, I scanned the engraving slowly.
Cold sweat slid down the back of my neck as I murmured the name. It couldn't be---Dad would have told me if there had been---another child--- but how?
"Christine Marie Stabler. Beloved daughter of Olivia and Elliot. Rest in peace."
Why didn't they tell me there was a daughter?
"You know."
Sweaty blonde hairs caught in my eyes as I whirled around, Olivia standing unsteadily a few feet behind me. Leaves crunched underneath her shoes as she came closer, eyeing the broken bouquet behind me.
"It's kind of strange that I'm back," she said, crossing her arms. She knelt beside me, fixing the flowers and stems neatly. "I was here this morning with your Dad and Jonathon. I thought I should leave a bouquet for Christine. It was my birthday, after all. I wish she had been there, too." Her smile was sad. "You would have liked her. She might have had your father's eyes."
"Why didn't Dad say anything?" I asked stubbornly. I knew I was a horrible person to bring these painful memories up for Olivia. Her eyes misted over, a lone tear riding down her cheek.
"He didn't want to cause anymore pain."
"Pain? Knowing that I had another sister would have caused me pain?"
"Not you," she snapped, surprising me. I took a hesitant step back, watching warily as she turned to face my trembling body. "I know you hate me for taking your father away. But if you could just understand all of what happened, maybe you'd understand." She paused. "He didn't want me to remember about the miscarriage. It was my child."
"You two didn't think of anyone else besides yourselves."
"The only people we thought of were you, and Dickie, Kathleen, and Maureen. We kept everything a secret so you wouldn't have to know. Would you have wanted to be aware, at eight years old, that your father was having an affair with me?"
"Since I was eight?"
"Yes."
"So since you two became partners."
"Pretty much."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
I sat on the cold ground, a slight breeze blowing through my coat. "Why Dad?"
She smiled, this time warmly. She sat beside me, and though uninvited, I subconsciously welcomed the company. "Your Dad is the man I fell in love with. I can't really explain why, but it just happened." Light filtered through her eyes. "Could you explain why you fell in love with someone?"
I bit my tongue. "No." I couldn't lie this time.
"I thought so," she said, taking off her scarf and handing it to me. Reluctantly, I wrapped the warm length of velvet and wool around my neck. Her face flushed in the surprisingly cold weather.
"Thanks," I said, hugging my knees and avoiding her eyes, flickering shadows between shafts of light that darted in and out. I could see how Dad lost himself in her. Staring into her eyes meant being hopelessly astray, seemingly fathomless with darkness. She seemed to know everything about me with just one glance. All my lies were unraveling before my feet.
"What I said back at the stationhouse---I didn't mean it." It was time to start making amends. I had made Olivia suffer enough with my stubbornness. I couldn't cause her any more pain for my sake.
"I know."
"You do?" How did she know that I was truly, absolutely, and sincerely sorry?
"You have every right to be angry at me."
"I do?"
She grinned. "You got to understand where your Dad and I stand, though."
"Fair enough."
"We aren't going to split up."
"Okay."
"Jonathon isn't just going to disappear."
"I'd like another brother. Dickie's too annoying."
"We love you, Elizabeth."
I swallowed quietly. "Okay," I said softly. I lay my hand out, wanting her to shake and make the deal happen. "You win."
She pushed my hand away, pulling me towards her in a loose embrace.
I could smell her flower perfume.
"Your Dad never stopped caring for any of you kids once he met me. He kept everything secret to protect, not hurt."
I sniffed, trying to hold back my betraying tears. "It wasn't fair how they just divorced. Mom just packed us up and said that Dad wasn't coming home anymore." I looked up at her. "She said that he was with you."
Olivia snorted. "He probably was. On a case, mind you."
"I guess so."
"Come on, Elizabeth."
I looked at her. "Lizzy. Not Liz, and not Elizabeth."
"You sure that's okay?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
I watched her smile at me, eyes glowing with hope.
It was going to be okay, from now on.
A/N: hmmmm, not as angsty as usual, but I think it had a rather original POV. So far, I haven't seen any SVU fic in Elizabeth Stabler's point of view. I tried to look at Olivia and Elliot's relationship through a fourteen year old's eyes, one of adolescent anger and resentment. Did I do a good job? I'd hope so. Tell me through reviews---but remember, no flames. Here are some spoilers for the eighth chapter, retitled from Broken Soul to Pride. Casey and Olivia POV. Enjoy.
Next time, in Chapter Eight: Pride...
Casey POV
I don't remember the last time I cried seriously. Maybe it was when I finished my first case, and saw the nearly dead little girl staring at me with haunted eyes. Or maybe it was the picture of Alexandra Cabot, my predecessor, who glared at me from the desk of John Munch, who still clings to the belief that she'll return, even though it's been almost a year, and she's long dead.
Or it's just the angry eyes of Olivia and Elliot that steal my nights away now. I can't ignore their eyes anymore. I see the way they look at me. They hate me for replacing Cabot. There's something behind her story. Everyone claims she's dead, but I don't believe lies.
Blindly I started kicking. "Someone help me!" I screamed. "A man's trying to attack me!"
"Let me go," I begged.
Woefully, I saw another street light die out.
I knew no one was coming for me.
Olivia POV
Three rings went by before someone picked up.
And that was when I heard screams.
Go review!!
Bisous, Ava
Wellwisher
A Law and Order: SVU fic
Disclaimer: crying Please, please, please, Dick Wolf, just hook Olivia and Elliot up. It would make so many writers happy.
Note: I have no clue when Olivia Benson's birthday is, so if the date is wrong, it is my own fault.
I'm so tired of being here,
Suppressed by all my childish fears.
And if you have to leave,
I wish that you would just leave.
Because your presence still lingers here,
And it won't leave me alone.
These wounds won't seem to heal,
This pain is just too real.
There's just too much that time cannot erase.
Evanescence: My Immortal
Elizabeth Stabler POV
It's odd that I haven't seen my baby half-brother until now. Apparently, Olivia gave birth months ago, and went back to work recently, part-time only though. But from the way Maureen described him, Jonathon was every bit Dad's son, with his calm temper and familiar face shape.
Mom didn't work when I was a kid, unlike Olivia. She stayed at home with Dickie and me all-day, playing and coloring with us until Maureen and Kathleen came home. Then we'd eat dinner, most of the time without Dad there. It was a routine, one that didn't break until recently. She was the caretaker, while Dad brought in all the money that kept us fed, clothed, and busy. Everything was working out perfectly. I didn't see anything wrong, at first.
But then again, everything changed when I found out all the lies.
It ended up being Maureen that told all of us. She said that Mom and Dad were getting a divorce. That Dad had been having a more-than-friends relationship with his partner, Olivia. That Mom and Dad's marriage had been a hopeless sham since Dad had been assigned as Olivia's partner. She had replaced Mom.
I was the one who took the news the hardest. I was Daddy's girl, the baby of the family. Dickie was younger than me, and that placed some responsibility on my young shoulders. I was expected to act slightly older than my young age, taking care of Dickie if it were just the two of us.
But I was still the youngest girl, and that made me special. I was the most important female figure in his life, besides Mom.
At least, that's what I thought for the longest time.
I used to like Olivia. She was the woman in Dad's life that we never saw, like a mystery waiting to be solved, or a treasure chest to be found. Maureen had met her more than once. She told me stories about how beautiful she was. How calm and collected she could be even after seeing a victim's blood spilled out on the street. How she kept Dad from getting too emotional during every case. How perfect she was.
But when Dad arrived home every night, usually past three in the morning, I could hear the shouting and angry words he had with Mom. They would fight almost every night, loud enough to almost shake the walls.
It was a dark time for all of us.
During the fights, Dickie and I would sneak out of our rooms, crawling into bed with Maureen, who held us until we fell asleep. As the eldest, she understood what was going on the most. She promised to protect us from everything.
Olivia was beautiful, like the exotic princesses I read about in kindergarten and first grade. Princesses from faraway countries, with long dark hair and shadowy eyes. Those were my memories from my childhood. Waiting up late with Dickie for Dad to come home after dropping Olivia off at her apartment downtown before coming home to us. As a child, I wished I could have met her. Now, as a teenager, I never want to see her.
Mom accused him of caring about her more than his own family. Of course he couldn't choose. To him, Olivia and us kids came first. I wasn't sure where Mom ranked anymore.
Dad often smelled of her when he came into my room, kissing my forehead goodnight, thinking I was sound asleep. I still don't what perfume she wore, but the fragrance still lingers on his clothes. I know it's made of crushed flowers, still smelling sweet hours after it was sprayed on. I can smell peony, rose, freesia, lavender, and a hint of camellia. I can't stand the scent anymore. The smell just clings to him now, because they aren't ever apart.
I was called into the office last month. The school psychologist somehow found out about Dad's divorce and relationship with Olivia. Apparently, her husband serves on the Morris Commission, where Dad and Olivia were grilled over and threatened. Dad never told us about that. Maybe he figured it would all be for the best if we were kept in the dark.
She asked me how I felt about Dad's relationship with "Detective Benson". She asked if his "intimacy" with her made me "upset". She wanted me to rat out Dad and Olivia right there, so they could be disgracefully fired.
I remember her leaning in, eyeing me for an answer.
I lied, telling her I was okay with it.
I don't know why I have to lie so often for Dad's sake. If he wants to screw over his career, then he and Olivia can do that. He shouldn't have had to drag the rest of us into this mess. He was almost kicked out of the police force for what he did.
It's Dickie, Maureen, Kathleen, and I in this battle between Mom and Dad. We're set in No Man's Land, with Olivia. We're the territory that they dare not touch. Mom went after Olivia a while ago, and ended up in Bellevue for about a week. Olivia never pressed charges, so Mom was a free woman. Dad never forgot though.
And now that Olivia's given birth to his new child, he'll forget us too.
Special Victims Unit stationhouse
April 12
"Come on, Olivia, just eat a bite."
"I can't, for the last time. I want to feed Jonathon with a healthy body. Not one filled with too much sugar and caffeine."
John set his plate of cake down, and took the plate that Olivia refused. Dickie grabbed it eagerly, throwing his now-cleared second plate in the garbage. Dad watched him with slight interest. Dickie was happy, no doubt, and would be bouncing off the walls soon, with all that sugar he was eating.
"Ood Ake," he said, sticking his cake-filled tongue out at me.
"Oh God, that's gross," I muttered, spinning to the opposite side in Dad's chair.
"Dickie," warned Dad.
"He's just being a kid," said Fin, draining coffee from the pot. "Let him be, Elliot."
John, clearly disappointed that he couldn't tempt Olivia any further, shook his head and eyed my new stepbrother, who just stared back with Olivia's dark brown eyes.
I wondered where Maureen and Kathleen were. They were supposed to have been here two hours ago, partying and wasting time with the rest of Dad's SVU friends.
I couldn't get over how much Jon looked like Olivia. It was as if he wasn't even Dad's kid. Maureen had lied when she described him to me. He had Olivia's same round face, same dark hair, and same dark eyes, cornered with shadows even as an innocent baby. He looked back at the world through darkness, just like his mother. He was nothing like Dad, who brought light and happiness into the room. Olivia was dark and murky; the complete opposite.
I both hated and loved Olivia. I loved how she made Dad happy. Mom just argued with him so much, that eventually, even I wanted them to divorce. Olivia was beautiful and radiant, and it was comforting to know that Dad married a possible model.
But I hated how beautiful she was. Mom was a typical New York girl, with long blonde hair and bouncy eyes. Olivia was dark and torturing, making men stare at her for long hours on end, loving the way their gazes lingered. She was the Devil to Mom's angelic presence.
My new stepmother had taken over Dad's life. Was I doomed like Cinderella? Would Olivia be my cruel stepmother?
"Lizzy," said Dickie softly, kicking my chair gently. "You okay?" He swallowed quickly, the last bit of cake traveling down his throat. "You really spaced out there."
I shrugged. "I'm just wondering where Kathleen and Maureen are, that's all."
"They're probably just late," said Olivia, shifting Jon on her leg. "High school and college kids don't want to hang around a precinct all day."
I stared at Olivia. "Maybe there was traffic."
"Maybe." She paused. "Do you want to call them?"
I shuffled my feet underneath the desk. "No."
Dad glanced at the two of us. Dickie, showing off his new video game, had engrossed Munch and Fin into an hours-long lecture on the battle techniques of 1000 Corpses: Search and Destroy. I could hear electronic zombie screams vibrating from the miniscule speakers of his Game boy.
Olivia nodded, shifting her weight to support my sleepy stepbrother. He stared at me from his dreamy brown eyes, seeming to know countless things about me, my lie of a life, and my hatred of his mother.
I didn't know why I hated Olivia so much. After all, she made Dad happy. Shouldn't that make me happy too? I had a father who had finally found true love, just like in the fairy tales. He was going to live happily ever after with his new bride and new family.
What would happen to his old family, though? Would he just dump us and forget that we ever existed?
"Lizzy," said Dad, tapping my shoulder. "You okay?"
I nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm fine." I was surprised he couldn't see through my pathetic lie. He would have to be blind to see that I wasn't okay. "No, I'm not okay!" I felt like screaming. "I'm sick of all your lies. I hate Olivia and that baby. You're my Dad, not some new baby's!"
The stationhouse was silent. Dickie dropped his Game boy, staring at me with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.
"Lizzy," he said softly. "What did you say?"
"Oh my God," I whispered, clambering out of Dad's chair. "I didn't---I couldn't have---I wouldn't---I wasn't serious---"
Dad's eyes clouded over for a moment; with anger or remorse, I couldn't tell. Olivia stopped playing with Jon, passing him down to Munch, who carried the little brat away.
"Liz," she started.
"Elizabeth," I snapped. "Don't call me Liz."
She stopped, taking care for what her next words were going to be. "I know you're angry at me, but if you'll just say why---"
"I shouldn't have to say why," I cried, my voice rising higher and higher. I took loud, gulping breaths between choked-back tears. "You made Mom so unhappy, keeping Dad all to yourself. He had a family, and you ruined everything. I hate you. I hate you!"
That was when the chair toppled to the ground. I could see the swinging doors---so close---as my escape route. I ran, light as the wind, and threw the doors open. I could hear Dickie and Fin shouting for me to stop. Upstairs, I heard Jon begin to cry.
But what hurt the most was that Dad wasn't coming after me; it was Olivia.
I don't remember how I ended up at the graveyard. Maybe because it was the closest thing I could run into, with Olivia still tracking me. I could hear her breathing, stopping briefly to call Dad and check in. He was downtown, checking in with my friends.
As if they'd rat me out.
Olivia's voice was worn with fatigue. Deep down, I knew it was wrong to make her chase me. She was still probably exhausted from being pregnant, and was weak from feeding Jon. She wasn't up to par with Dad and the rest of the team. That was probably why she was still on desk duty, resting until she was strong enough to go back to regular work.
I didn't realize the selfish extent of my words until I stumbled over a small gravestone, skinning my knee and falling backwards into the ground. Underneath me, a small bouquet of camellias and roses crunched from my weight. Cursing under my breath, I hit the stone, faintly hearing my knuckles crack.
"Stupid grave," I muttered.
Clambering around the cold granite, I scanned the engraving slowly.
Cold sweat slid down the back of my neck as I murmured the name. It couldn't be---Dad would have told me if there had been---another child--- but how?
"Christine Marie Stabler. Beloved daughter of Olivia and Elliot. Rest in peace."
Why didn't they tell me there was a daughter?
"You know."
Sweaty blonde hairs caught in my eyes as I whirled around, Olivia standing unsteadily a few feet behind me. Leaves crunched underneath her shoes as she came closer, eyeing the broken bouquet behind me.
"It's kind of strange that I'm back," she said, crossing her arms. She knelt beside me, fixing the flowers and stems neatly. "I was here this morning with your Dad and Jonathon. I thought I should leave a bouquet for Christine. It was my birthday, after all. I wish she had been there, too." Her smile was sad. "You would have liked her. She might have had your father's eyes."
"Why didn't Dad say anything?" I asked stubbornly. I knew I was a horrible person to bring these painful memories up for Olivia. Her eyes misted over, a lone tear riding down her cheek.
"He didn't want to cause anymore pain."
"Pain? Knowing that I had another sister would have caused me pain?"
"Not you," she snapped, surprising me. I took a hesitant step back, watching warily as she turned to face my trembling body. "I know you hate me for taking your father away. But if you could just understand all of what happened, maybe you'd understand." She paused. "He didn't want me to remember about the miscarriage. It was my child."
"You two didn't think of anyone else besides yourselves."
"The only people we thought of were you, and Dickie, Kathleen, and Maureen. We kept everything a secret so you wouldn't have to know. Would you have wanted to be aware, at eight years old, that your father was having an affair with me?"
"Since I was eight?"
"Yes."
"So since you two became partners."
"Pretty much."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
I sat on the cold ground, a slight breeze blowing through my coat. "Why Dad?"
She smiled, this time warmly. She sat beside me, and though uninvited, I subconsciously welcomed the company. "Your Dad is the man I fell in love with. I can't really explain why, but it just happened." Light filtered through her eyes. "Could you explain why you fell in love with someone?"
I bit my tongue. "No." I couldn't lie this time.
"I thought so," she said, taking off her scarf and handing it to me. Reluctantly, I wrapped the warm length of velvet and wool around my neck. Her face flushed in the surprisingly cold weather.
"Thanks," I said, hugging my knees and avoiding her eyes, flickering shadows between shafts of light that darted in and out. I could see how Dad lost himself in her. Staring into her eyes meant being hopelessly astray, seemingly fathomless with darkness. She seemed to know everything about me with just one glance. All my lies were unraveling before my feet.
"What I said back at the stationhouse---I didn't mean it." It was time to start making amends. I had made Olivia suffer enough with my stubbornness. I couldn't cause her any more pain for my sake.
"I know."
"You do?" How did she know that I was truly, absolutely, and sincerely sorry?
"You have every right to be angry at me."
"I do?"
She grinned. "You got to understand where your Dad and I stand, though."
"Fair enough."
"We aren't going to split up."
"Okay."
"Jonathon isn't just going to disappear."
"I'd like another brother. Dickie's too annoying."
"We love you, Elizabeth."
I swallowed quietly. "Okay," I said softly. I lay my hand out, wanting her to shake and make the deal happen. "You win."
She pushed my hand away, pulling me towards her in a loose embrace.
I could smell her flower perfume.
"Your Dad never stopped caring for any of you kids once he met me. He kept everything secret to protect, not hurt."
I sniffed, trying to hold back my betraying tears. "It wasn't fair how they just divorced. Mom just packed us up and said that Dad wasn't coming home anymore." I looked up at her. "She said that he was with you."
Olivia snorted. "He probably was. On a case, mind you."
"I guess so."
"Come on, Elizabeth."
I looked at her. "Lizzy. Not Liz, and not Elizabeth."
"You sure that's okay?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
I watched her smile at me, eyes glowing with hope.
It was going to be okay, from now on.
A/N: hmmmm, not as angsty as usual, but I think it had a rather original POV. So far, I haven't seen any SVU fic in Elizabeth Stabler's point of view. I tried to look at Olivia and Elliot's relationship through a fourteen year old's eyes, one of adolescent anger and resentment. Did I do a good job? I'd hope so. Tell me through reviews---but remember, no flames. Here are some spoilers for the eighth chapter, retitled from Broken Soul to Pride. Casey and Olivia POV. Enjoy.
Next time, in Chapter Eight: Pride...
Casey POV
I don't remember the last time I cried seriously. Maybe it was when I finished my first case, and saw the nearly dead little girl staring at me with haunted eyes. Or maybe it was the picture of Alexandra Cabot, my predecessor, who glared at me from the desk of John Munch, who still clings to the belief that she'll return, even though it's been almost a year, and she's long dead.
Or it's just the angry eyes of Olivia and Elliot that steal my nights away now. I can't ignore their eyes anymore. I see the way they look at me. They hate me for replacing Cabot. There's something behind her story. Everyone claims she's dead, but I don't believe lies.
Blindly I started kicking. "Someone help me!" I screamed. "A man's trying to attack me!"
"Let me go," I begged.
Woefully, I saw another street light die out.
I knew no one was coming for me.
Olivia POV
Three rings went by before someone picked up.
And that was when I heard screams.
Go review!!
Bisous, Ava