Chapter Two: Preparations

Olivia

When I got back to work everyone asked about my vacation. You'd think they'd have learned by now, but of course Elliot is ever optimistic that I'll actually go somewhere during my breaks. And George is ever the psychiatrist, hoping I'll give myself a break from my brain when I'm off duty. As for Munch and Fin… well they're just nosy, but you know that.

Normally I spend my off time thinking about us, re-examining my regrets, practicing all the things I wish I'd said. I beat myself up for letting them just take you away from me. But that was when I thought it was forever, when I thought you wouldn't be back. And while I did that… quite a bit; I also spent a lot of time preparing for your return. Everywhere I looked I saw things you wouldn't like… things that would have gotten me –the look. And yes, I still practiced all the things I wish I'd said. Only now I'm practicing for when I say them. Because this time I won't let it end the same way. I won't let you go without saying a few things first. Things I've needed to say… things you've needed to hear.

"Liv! Let's go—we've got a call!"

Elliot's voice pulls me away, and I grab my jacket as I rush out the door, my free hand on the butt of my gun. Deep in the back of my mind the thought of your return pushes a smile to my lips.

-----

I open the door to my apartment with a sigh of relief. Today's case was hard. Harder than usual. I find myself wishing, as I have often in the last week, that you were here already. My apartment, really clean for the first time in months looks empty without you here. Not that piles of clothes, and unopened liquor bottles were good company, but at least it looked like I wasn't just rattling around alone. I threw out the liquor before I bothered with the clothes. I know you wouldn't approve, despite the fact that they were all unopened. And I don't want to have to explain either.

I don't want to explain that every time I felt your absence-- that every time my craving for you made me ache-- I bought another bottle. I don't want to explain that I never opened them. Not one. I don't want to explain going to Maloney's and watching the guys drink while I sipped on water and stared at the bottles on the wall. I don't want to explain that those full bottles lining my kitchen counters replaced you for a while. Because before you they were all I had. And even though I swore I'd never touch alcohol again, I can't resist buying those tall clear bottles, or the short brown ones. I can't explain the 40s in the fridge that I'll never open because I never bothered to replace the bottle opener you threw through the window before you left.

And I don't want to admit that even though you're coming back it was hard to throw out those bottles. There's something comforting about the weight of a vodka bottle in my hand. Something comforting about the cool slickness of the glass between my fingers, and something equally comforting about the fact that every seal on every bottle is intact. But I don't want to try and explain that to you. I don't want your first view of this place to initiate a fight. Especially one so futile. I swore I'd stop drinking and I did. You're coming back. I don't need my bottles anymore. Soon I'll have you instead.

Sometimes I forget it's not forever, nothing is… not even this return—you said so yourself. And there's no guarantee about us. If there is an us. If there could even be an us. But just in case, my apartment is clean, my life is clean, I'm clean. Waiting. Preparing for you.

Alex

I know what you did after we hung up last week. I can see you sweeping out your apartment… making things ready. I wonder if there will be a window to fix. Will there be bottles to throw away? A new bottle opener to get rid of? You swore you'd stop but I know how hard this has been for you. I wouldn't blame you if you slipped a few times. I wouldn't like it. But I wouldn't blame you. I'm the queen of moderation and even I almost drank myself away a few times in these last 2 years.

I wonder if you repainted. I wonder if I'll walk in to those blue walls that you fought against so hard. I wonder if your bedroom is still purple. "Pale Indigo" you called it. I didn't push that the paint can said 'lilac' when I bought it. I'll never forget the look on your face when you saw it. I thought you were going to kill me at first. Lilac walls with violet and blue India-inspired bedding. Complementary reds and blues draped your bedroom window, and the room glowed with a gentle warmth.

"You and your damn doe eyes," you said, feigning disgust.

"What do I and my damn doe eyes have to do with your new bedroom?"

"You tricked me. With that… that look! That damn doe-eyed look you get. The one I can't manage to say no to!"

"What look?" I try for innocent and cherubic…

"THAT LOOK!" You glower at me for only a second before your hormones take over. As usual. "Oh forget it. Well Counselor? Shall we give the room a fair trial before we throw out the verdict?" Topping it off with a wink, you give me a look that I can't resist.

I laugh, thinking of your face when you wake up in your new room for the first time. I can't help but giggle, even now, at the confusion that crosses your deep brown eyes as you take it all in again. For a minute, I thought you were actually going to get angry. Instead, you sink back into the bed and reach for me. As usual, I let you.

Would we have continued that way forever, if I hadn't decided to play super-hero? Could we have continued that way? Could I really have stayed around, getting my heart involved, my soul involved, with someone who couldn't say the three words I needed most? I know you meant them. I know you felt them. But I don't know if that would have been enough.

Will it be enough when I return? Will it matter? Just in case—I start making my own preparations. First things first, I need new glasses. And some new clothes. Elizabeth Regis does not know how to dress.

But Alexandra Cabot does.

-----

I feel much better with some new clothes, and my glasses should be in by the time I leave. This may be a small town in comparison to New York, but it's better than some of the stops we had along the way. And at least they had a little variety to choose from. I thought about taking in my old pair, having new lenses put in. But I decided to surprise you instead. My new clothes are a mix. You'll be surprised to see I've become addicted to jeans. You always teased that I didn't know how to dress down, but sometimes I think I'll never remember how to dress up! I bought some new suits, but mostly for the jackets. I think that's your fault though. You and your layered look. And those damn leather jackets! You must have at least ten of them. Different colors, different lengths. You'll be shocked to see the two I bought while I was here. Both hip-length. Great over my new jeans. The first one I bought because it reminded me of you. I saw it in a store window in downtown Salem. That gorgeous brown that matches your eyes. The one that always made me melt into you. I saw its twin and couldn't resist. The $350 price tag was worth it. I slept with that coat for weeks before I actually decided to put it on. It draped over my extra pillow at night, and over the back of my extra dining table chair when I was home for dinner.

Hammond came by to discuss something one night and followed me into the bedroom where I was working. He saw the jacket wrapped around the pillow and gave me his version of –the look. Only his was more of a "you have got to be crazy" sort of thing. I decided it probably wasn't healthy to be sleeping with a coat you've never even worn, so I started wearing it instead.

I can't help but smirk, thinking about what you'll say about the new me. I start to put away my new things and continue with the rest of my preparations. I want to be ready for you. I imagine your eyes in my mind, trying to get ready for their deep chocolate so that I don't get totally lost in them when I see you. I want to have my wits about me when you finally get me alone.