Ava Cabot
Premeditated Understanding
A Law and Order: SVU fic
A/N: "All you can have is a premeditated understanding of the situation, and never look back." Alex needs to make a decision. Spoilers for Mercy.
The instructions on the back of the box are simple. Remove, swab, panic, and see.
I was surprised the counter clerk at the store didn't recognize me. Too tired—or forgetful—to change my clothes, I scurried into the corner pharmacy, still dressed up in my court with no where to go. My lavender scarf, complete with dark skirt, jacket, and shirt, definitely screamed lawyer.
The clerk was a character witness for an sexual assault case I had worked two months ago. Her boyfriend was on trial, and made a habit of calling me...colorful names outside of court, and in Rikers after being sentenced.
But then again, I didn't have time to worry about petty matters. The rest of my life could be determined by one stupid test.
I hated how much my life hung in the balance of something that could seem so trivial to some women, but devastating to me.
Some women feel that children are a blessing. To me, they are a terrifying experience that I don't know I could survive. I have seen Death rear it's ugly head at me, and witness countless rapists, molesters, and murderers die a quiet, peaceful death.
Seeing a mother sentenced for twenty-five to life burned something inside of me. I never like to see some cases win, especially when the defendant believes what they did was justified. Andrea Brown killed her baby girl to spare her from Tay-Sachs.
John had approached me exiting the courthouse, as I descended down the cold stone steps that night, Andrea Brown's sobs still echoing in my ears. Her husband was devastated, and I helped expose a terrible marital secret. Their lives were ruined. Was it completely my fault?
John's voice was sharp but gentle. "Good job, Counselor."
"She didn't deserve twenty-five to life." She truly didn't. Even if the jury and I both thought she was more than morally responsible for the death of baby Sara, an already grieving mother shouldn't have to waste away in prison. Die in three-walled cell, completely alone.
It was a situation any mother shouldn't have to face.
"Jury thought so."
Of couse they did, John, I felt like screaming. I put her in the spotlight, making her look like some prostitute that Vice picked up.
"Because I turned her into a whore." My voice was strangely calm now, as John gazed at me through tinted glasses, his eyes unusually peaceful and serene. There was no storm underneath his eyes, tonight. No conspiracy- threat that wanted to be shouted out from the rooftops.
"Doesn't matter. She killed her child."
Out of love, supposedly.
"What if it was your daughter? What would you have done?"
This was the question I had been wanting to ask him. I had to know, should I bear his child someday, if he would allow me to kill that child, should they be afflicted with Tay-Sachs.
"Whatever I could have."
The response put me to ease. At first I was internally relieved, but careful not to let his response throw me off.
But then I remembered.
I still had to test myself.
With shaking hands I bring the swab up to my face, holding the back of the box close to my face. A bead of sweat drops off my face, as I place the two items next to each other to compare results.
The result nearly knocks me off my feet.
Negative.
The damn tests are negative, a pink stain lining the end. Blue equals pregnant, congratulations, you're going to have a baby, etc. Pink means you gave yourself a near heart- attack for nothing. You scared yourself stupid, just to have the test practically mock you, and show up negative.
My breaths carefully regulated now, I remember all the information John had dumped on me, about the deadly disease Tay-Sachs. I'm thinking calmly now, focusing on a series of textbook information on the genetic disease. Scientific facts flood through my mind.
My knowledge of the disease could be repeated from a biology book.
Tay-Sachs disease is caused by the absence of a vital enzyme called hexosaminidase A (Hex-A). Without Hex-A, a fatty substance or lipid called GM2 ganglioside accumulates abnormally in cells, especially in the nerve cells of the brain. This ongoing accumulation causes progressive damage to the cells. The destructive process begins in the fetus early in pregnancy, although the disease is not clinically apparent until the child is several months old. By the time a child is three or four years old, the nervous system is so badly affected that life itself cannot be supported.
A baby with Tay-Sachs disease appears normal at birth and seems to develop normally until about six months of age. The first signs of TSD can vary and are evident at different ages in affected children. Initially, development slows, there is a loss of peripheral vision, and the child exhibits an abnormal startle response. By about two years of age, most children experience recurrent seizures and diminishing mental function. The infant gradually regresses, losing skills one by one, and is eventually unable to crawl, turn over, sit, or reach out. Other symptoms include progressive inability to swallow and breathing difficulties. Eventually, the child becomes blind, mentally retarded, paralyzed, and non-responsive to his or her environment.
Even with the best of care, all children die early in childhood, usually by the age of five.
All of this thanks to John. God knows how he found all these specifics out. He may be Jewish, one of the racial groups prone to the disease, but that doesn't explain the scientific detail he went into.
Then again, he is an intellectual.
John, over dinner two nights ago, educated me on the more scientific edge of the disease that affects his racial backround. I can't say that knowing my child was affected would drive me to murder, but even a fairly stable person like me can lose control.
I loved him probably more than anything. I wanted to scream those three simple words from the rooftop of the DA's office, just to let him know how I felt.
I lick my lips carefully, throwing the negative results in the bathroom trashcan. Washing my hands of that experience is a wonderful feeling.
The message light on my answering machine blinks happily, one message awaiting my touch.
"You've reached my home phone. Leave a message, please."
BEEP.
"Alex...call me later...we should talk..."
Pause.
"We need to talk."
He's normally not so emotional, too. Hearing him open up his heart is a good sign. I should call him.
Later.
I buried my head into a wayward cushion. Unstoppable tears came freely from my eyes, as I wondered hopelessly about a situation that would never come to pass.
A/N: Just a drabble I thought of while watching a re-run of Mercy. An angsty John/Alex scene like this was running through my head. It is AU, so the situation may not seem extremely likely. But constructive criticism is always welcomed. Thanks!
Ava