Chapter Eighteen: Vodka

Olivia

As your lips brush against mine again, more quickly this time, I know you're trying to reassure me. I wish it had worked but instead I'm still sitting across from you, afraid of the questions I know are coming. We started out well this morning. As hard as it was, draining on both of us, I know it needed to happen-- should have happened years ago-- will probably have to happen again once you're back for good. I finally let you through the door I've kept locked tight against you for four and a half years, and I know I'll never feel quite the same again.

It's not that my admissions make me feel unsafe, not when I know my absolution from you is automatic. It's just that having you know that much about me makes me that much more vulnerable to you, to our relationship. I guess I can call it that now. I'm not sure what it was before, what we had. It was more than just the sex, but something shy of what I know you craved between us.

It's time for the intimacy you always said I couldn't handle. Time for me to answer to you. A few years ago I would have balked at the thought have having to answer to anyone about how I feel, about the things I've done. It still feels odd knowing that before we sleep tonight you'll know as much about me as anyone who's ever been in my life. You'll know everything… you'll have all of my defenses in your hand. I know you won't try to use them against me-- that you won't try to use them to hurt me-- but it's still hard to face letting them go, even for you.

I try to focus on the sound of your voice. I try to breathe in the way my name fell from you lips as you changed the meaning of that word… "Livvy." I hold it in my head, in my heart as your interrogation begins, reminding myself every second that you need to know because you love me, and not because you want to hurt me. You need to know because I've hurt you.

"Livvy. Livvy. Livvy. Livvy." I make it a mantra in my heart as I see you lick your lips, ready.

Alex

I wonder what you're thinking right now. I know you're scared, it's obvious. It radiates from you without your acknowledgment. I can see you struggling not to let your fear put back the walls you crushed from between us last night. I lick my lips, and take your hand, wanting to be able to touch you while I do this. To make this connection, so you can remember that I need to know because I love you, and not because I want to hurt you.

"When did you actually stop? It wasn't when you told me. Even when I came back I knew you were still drinking." I can see you flinch. You weren't expecting me to start here. You probably thought I'd start easier, gentler. I know this is cruel, especially considering the things you told me last night, and I shouldn't be using this as a test, but after two years I can still feel a sharp edge on my anger, even if it has been muted.

"After you threw the bottle of wine out the window. The day I woke up hungover in your lap on the couch. You know it was one of my worst benders, but I still remember the things I said to you when I got home from the bar. I was so angry with you, for getting Elliot and I wrapped up in your mess with Donnelly. I was angry with you and upset with myself for yelling at you when I knew how stressed you were about the Cavanaugh case. I knew you would be here, waiting for me and I went to Maloney's first. I figured I'd toss back a few, put a damper on my anger before I had to face you again. I didn't want to yell at you again."

I remember that night, that day. I broke the rules, bent them till they fit my purpose and nearly got myself, and you fired. I had a lot to be sorry about that night too. But the longer I waited for you, the less sorry I felt, and the more disgusted I became.

"Well, You didn't yell."

"No. Instead I sat on your lap and played with your hair. I plied myself into your arms and pretended I'd forgiven you. When I saw the look on your face after you kissed me, after you tasted the vodka that lingered there… I didn't think. I didn't yell, I just got mean, called you a pushy, self-serving bitch."

"Among other things." The memory of those words spilling out of your liquor soaked mouth makes me sick. It feels like the pain is fresh all over again and I have to remind myself that it's not who you are anymore. This is going to be harder than I thought.

Olivia

I was awful to you that night. Worse than awful. None of our fights were pretty but that last night before I quit drinking was especially heinous. I can see in your eyes that it still hurts you, thinking about the things I said.

"What were you thinking Alex? Did you just decide the law didn't apply to you, and by extension to me? Trying to get me fired?" My speech is slurred, crushed in on itself by force of alcohol. "Jesus Alex, honestly. How can you be such a pushy, self-serving bitch?"

"I wasn't doing it for me Olivia. I was trying to help them. I was trying to get the evidence I needed to make this work."

"Fuck that. Admit it Alexandra, you thought maybe this could be the case to put you over the top right? Take you out of the ADA's seat and into a judge's robe? I always knew you were just a fame-monger. Well you almost got yer headline tonight baby. I can see it now, 'crazy blonde assistant DA blows case and gets entire squad of the one-six fired.."

I remember you face, the way it fell as I got myself deeper and deeper.

"I was wrong Alex. And not just because of the drinking. Drunk or sober I had no right to attack you that way. Especially that day, you'd been beaten down enough. I know you better than that, I knew you better." For the first time this evening. I find myself apologizing to you, "I'm sorry Alex. I'm sorry." It won't be the last time those words cross my lips tonight.

Alex

I never doubted that you were sorry. Well maybe I did at first. But somehow I always knew without you saying it. It was like "I love you." I knew you felt it even if you didn't say it. My reaction to your apology isn't the same as my reaction to hearing you say you love me-- there's a less visceral aspect to it. But I still feel those words deeply. It still amazes me to hear you saying things I never thought you'd be able to part with. And the apologies are a big part of that. I'm not out to punish you, but I need to hear you tell me that you are sorry.

"And you quit. After that night?"

"As soon as you left the next morning. Do you remember having to sleep in the sofa because I… because I passed out on top of you?" As if I could forget.

"Yes. Do you remember what you said to me that morning?" Your eyes cast downward in response. I knew you would.

"yeah. Yeah, I remember."

"'Well thanks for a lovely evening, counselor. We'll have to do it again sometime. But next time, give me a little warning before you try to fuck over my life and take away my career.'" I can't keep the sneer out of my voice, mimicking the attitude you threw at me that day. I was so incredibly angry. With the exception of our last fight, before I died, I think it was the angriest I've ever been at you. I'd put up with your drinking as long as I could stand it.

The Cavanaugh case nearly killed me, in more ways than one and I needed you that night, even though I knew you were angry too. I went to your apartment to apologize, to hope you'd forgive me. I let myself in with the key you made for me and waited for you. And waited. And waited. When I called your cell and heard the sounds of the bar in the background I knew I wouldn't be getting any comfort from you when you finally came home. I didn't think you'd be as far gone as you were, but I knew you weren't going to just forgive me.

You showed up at about 1am. I was in the bathroom washing the tearstains off my face when I heard Elliot bring you in. I'm not sure what he would have thought if he'd seen me waiting for you, or what he would have said… he had reason to be angry with me too. I walked back out and watched you as you noticed me. I didn't know how drunk you were yet. I know you all worked late, and I had no idea what time you went to the bar.

"Liv. I'm sorry, I had to come by and… talk to you. I wanted to apologize… again."

"S'ok. Sit down, we'll chat."

You sat on the sofa, leaving room for me on the end, and I join you, leaning against the back of the sofa, staring straight ahead as I start trying to beg your forgiveness, "Olivia I was wrong today. Wrong about this case. I should have followed the rules, I know their there for a---"

You interrupted me, turning and leaning back, almost climbing into my lap.

"S'ok, counselor. Forget about it." And that's when I knew. You leaned towards me and planted a kiss on my lips. I could smell the alcohol on your breath; I could still taste the vodka you'd no doubt been knocking back all night. I lost my taste for apology.

I pull away from your kiss; try to extract myself from your arms. "God Olivia. Did you wipe out the Vodka at Maloney's or what? Listen; -- stop-- " I have to interrupt my anger to push you away again as you try to plant another kiss on me. "Olivia! --- Benson! Knock it off. Look, I'm trying to apologize Olivia, I'm trying to tell you I made a mistake. Do you get that? Does that register in your liquor-addled stupor?"

Behind the alcohol float in your eyes I see anger register, "What were you thinking Alex? Did you just decide the law didn't apply to you, and by extension to me? Trying to get me fired?" Your speech is slurred, crushed in on itself by force of alcohol. "Jesus Alex, honestly. How can you be such a pushy, self-serving bitch?"

"I wasn't doing it for me Olivia. I was trying to help them. I was trying to get the evidence I needed to make this work."

"Fuck that. Admit it Alexandra, you thought maybe this could be the case to put you over the top right? Take you out of the ADA's seat and into a judge's robe? I always knew you were just a fame-monger. Well you almost got yer headline tonight baby. I can see it now, 'crazy blonde assistant DA blows case and gets entire squad of the one-six fired.."

Even though I know you're drunk, not thinking about how the things you're saying affect me, it stings. I'm angry, and hurt, and I can't stop my tears.

"We can't keep doing this, Olivia. I can't keep doing this. I can't keep watching you self-destruct this way."

"Well hon, tonight is all about you isn't it. Just like today was. It's all about Miss Cabot. Making your case, getting your evidence. Pardon me, I'm just your investigator."

"Olivia, please."

You're still angry and so am I, and I can see the edge we're treading. But the alcohol is depressing your senses, making you sleepy. I can feel you getting heavy on my legs.

"Olivia, do not fall asleep. Don't. Do not fall asleep in my lap. You're not welcome here anymore."

I'm talking to myself. You're out, passed out completely and the weight of you keeps me stuck to the sofa. I'm repulsed by you there, disgusted at the sight of you curled up in my lap. I thought about leaving. About trying to muscle you off of me so I can go home, back to my loft. I decided I'd rather wait for you to wake up, so that you can watch me leaving you. I didn't anticipate fighting with you again in the morning. The plan was just to leave. But as usual for us, things don't go according to plan. We continued arguing back and forth until I couldn't take it anymore. Before I stalk out of your apartment, I throw a wine bottle through your living room window, taking a moment to pitch your bottle opener out after it.

"If you really feel like you need it so badly Detective Benson, follow the flight path. Fuck you!" I leave, slamming your door behind me before you can respond.