Chapter Twenty: Replacing You

Olivia

I wasn't going to tell you this part. I wasn't planning on admitting to something you couldn't possibly find out about. It doesn't even have any real bearing on our relationship because all it does is make me look foolish. But I know that if I'm really going to do this I have to be completely honest, even about the things you'd never know otherwise.

I already feel stupid, telling you about that window, and I'm not feeling much better now. "After… after you left me the last time. I mean, before you left. Before you died. Before you left…-- dammit" It's frustrating trying to explain it like this. You left and then you died and then you left and I can't make the timeline sound right out loud.

"I know what you mean."

"Anyway, we had that fight about, well about the same old thing and I was so angry because I couldn't understand how you didn't know that I loved you. I couldn't understand why you were so obsessed with hearing me say it. When you left and said you'd be back when I learned to talk, I sort of knew you weren't coming back again. Because I knew I'd never be able to say certain things, not even to you.

"That night I went out to the bar and got a scotch. I sat there at the counter and stared at it. All night. Until they kicked me out. I'd pick it up and swish it around, smell it, run my finger around the rim. I wanted to drink it so badly it hurt. At some point Elliot walked in with Don and they sat next to me. Don put his hand on my back and Elliot slid my drink over, picking it up and taking a taste, making sure it really was alcohol. He knew I'd quit drinking, even though I didn't tell him exactly why. His eyebrows went up, you know how he gets, but he didn't say anything for awhile.

"'Whatcha' doin Liv?'

"I didn't know what to tell him, so I didn't say anything, just shook my head, and slid the drink back in front of me. 'Thought you quit.'

'I did.'

'So what's that?' he asked me, 'Spicy water?'

I told him.

'Scotch? Since when do you drink Scotch, even when you drank?'

'Seemed like the right thing to get. Failed relationships and all that. You always see guys drowning their breakups with scotch in the movies.' He laughed when I said that.

'Breakups huh? Who's the lucky -- er, stupid guy?' I knew he was gonna ask me, and I almost told him about you. But I was having a hard enough time trying not to drink that scotch without getting into a discussion about my relationship with a female coworker… no offense."

"None taken."

"I told him not to worry about it, asked him to leave it alone. He did. Don never said a word. Even after Elliot went home, Cragen just sat there watching me watch my scotch glass. I never could understand how he could go to the bar with everybody after a case and not want to drink. I stared at that drink so long that by the time they kicked us out my vision was distorted, like I was looking at everything through brown, watery glasses. Don insisted on driving me home. He told me about the first time he'd done what I did. About sitting in a bar until closing, staring at a drink. He said when it was over he'd gone home and bought a bottle of Whiskey… his drink of choice. Said he set it on the counter in the kitchen… right in the middle where he couldn't ignore it. He said it reminded him that he was the one with the power, not a bottle of some random brown liquid."

I remember Don's voice, that rough, deep dad-voice. "You don't have to let this have power over you anymore Olivia. You're stronger than the scotch is. You're stronger than the vodka too."

"He tried to get me to go to a meeting that night. Which was nice, but I'm pretty sure you know that's not really my thing."

You nod, and I can tell you don't want to interrupt me.

"So I ended up back at the apartment, all your stuff was gone, your key was in an envelope in the living room where it landed when you slid it under the door. Seeing it there didn't upset me the same way this time. I'd known you were leaving ever since we found Lydia in that ally. I didn't know you were going to get yourself 'killed' over it, but I knew you wouldn't be back. The night we found her was the night you started really pushing me, trying to draw me out like you had in the beginning. I saw that you were going to leave me from a mile away. Why do you think I was so upset about the way you were going after that case, even when you knew how dangerous it was?"

Alex

Well, I asked for honest. I didn't expect that honest, but ok. I guess I figured you were upset about the case because you were worried about me. As much as I want to hear this I can't help but think the truth sucks.

The look on your face softens and I realize I've said that aloud.

"I'm sorry Liv. I asked you to tell me and I want to know. It's just… harder than I thought."

"S'ok Lexi. If it makes you feel any better, I was worried about you too. Which was weird. I was worried and angry at the same time and I couldn't figure out why. Half of me was almost glad you were going to leave me. And half of me was petrified that the leaving wouldn't be your choice… which is… well-- it's kind of what happened in the end right?"

I can only nod. But I'm relieved to hear you were worried too.

"You went off half-cocked after Zapata, even after everybody told you not to. And I know I didn't help, and neither did Elliot. We were so pissed at the Feds for standing in our way that we were willing to do almost anything to get justice for Lydia. But when we figured out what you were up against, I couldn't help but be angry at your determination. When you came home those first few nights you were so worked up. You wouldn't stop pacing, doing that -- floor point-- thing that you do. You started trying to distract yourself by trying to make me talk about my life. I thought you'd given up your fishing expeditions after the first time you came back. I couldn't understand why you all of a sudden needed to get me talking."

I remember those nights all too well. Our fights are part of the string of nightmares that make up the week before the Feds whisked me away. Sometimes I'll dream that I'm fighting against Zapata, wrestling with him, he'll have me on the ground, a gun to my head and suddenly his voice turns into yours, telling me to back off, to leave you alone. I can't help but shudder, thinking about the first time I woke up in a sweat, still picturing your voice coming from Zapata's angry face.

"That first night, you were finally calming down. You seemed tired, and worried, and frustrated and I understood all of those things, because I was feeling them too. You came over to the bed where I was reading and sat down with your back to me. You tipped backwards and leaned into me and asked if I'd rub your back, remember?"

I remember. I know where you're going with this and I can't help but feel contrite.

"I put down my book--which I never did finish by the way-- and started giving you a back massage, rubbing your neck and trying to work out the kinks you'd put there by pacing around the living room with your head down. Everything was going fine, and then you started in. Sucker-punched me when I was finally starting to get comfortable… thinking maybe if I got you relaxed enough I could talk you out of prosecuting the case, or at least get laid."

You have the decency to blush at that admission, which is good for you-- because otherwise I'd have been tempted to smack you. Despite the serious nature of our conversation, I can still feel your hands rubbing my neck, kneading my shoulders and smoothing the muscles in my back. I remember getting lost in that feeling, enjoying the sense of your tan hands against the white of my skin. But I couldn't just leave it. I couldn't just enjoy the moment.

Truth is that particular fight is as much my fault as yours.But we're not talking about that fight right now. There's plenty of time for that later.

Olivia

I'm not sure how we got off track, but I'm not ready to go into the rest of that last week yet. I need more time to collect my thoughts before I can explain myself to you properly. I know we need to talk about it, that it's going to have to get put to rest before you… what, leave again?

For the first time since you appeared yesterday night I remember that this is just a visit, and not a permanent thing. ouch 'Stay focused Liv. Confession time.'

"Look, we're… getting ahead of ourselves. Let's leave that for later. For now I need to tell you this. About after Don dropped me off that night. Anyway… you'd left and everywhere I looked around the apartment there were these-- empty places where you should be. I hated the way my place looked without you. I rattled around for a few hours, upset because I didn't realize how hard it was to sleep without you next to me. I lay down for awhile, on your side of the bed. Did you know you left your slippers? I saw them when I finally gave up on trying to sleep. I walked around in them for awhile, but I just couldn't seem to relax.

"I tucked my belt holster on and grabbed my jacket on the way out the door. I walked around the city for awhile. Watching the night get darker for awhile, then watching it get lighter, I just couldn't shake how good it felt to have the scotch glass in my hand. I stopped in at a liquor store and bought a bottle to take back home. I got back to the apartment just in time to change my clothes and grab the clip case for my badge. By the time my shift was halfway over I could almost taste the scotch. You were being so stubborn, wouldn't listen to anybody, Don, Elliot, Branch… me. We had Zapata in custody and you were starting to get ready to go for his balls, the way you always do in court. I was frustrated because I couldn't talk to you away from everyone without seeming desperate, or without telling you I loved you, and you know I couldn't do that.

"By the time my day was over I was exhausted. I took the subway but got off a few stops before the apartment. I went into my former favorite liquor store and bought a bottle of vodka. It was almost easy. Handed over my money and got a brown paper bag full of my favorite mistake. I took it home and set it on the table, next to the bottle of scotch. I took turns picking them up and holding their weight in my hand, remembering what Don had said. Trying to believe him. Wishing you were here to help convince me.

"I almost called you. I knew you'd be at your apartment, bent over your desk reading reports trying to start prepping for motions and challenges and arguments. But I also knew that unless I could tell you something specific you'd probably have hung up on me."

"You could have called anyway, Liv. I always wanted to help you when you were hurting, even when I was angry with you. Even when we weren't dating. That was the whole point, for you to talk to me about these things."

I can see you starting to get worked up about the same time I notice that I've been sitting on my legs for about 2 hours, and I'm starting to really lose some feeling. You look uncomfortable too and without speaking we decide to get more comfortable. You follow me into the bedroom and keep talking as we change into comfortable clothes and crawl under the covers. We face each other, laying on our sides, in an almost perfect copy of the way we woke up more than 14 hours ago. The bedside alarm reads 8:30pm, but it feels much later, both of us worn out from all this discussion. Which is fine because I'm almost done confessing.

Even though you look beautiful, the way your hair frames your face, a blonde shock of it over your shoulder, covering the front of your neck until I brush it back behind you, there's nothing sexual about this moment, and I'm actually pretty ok with that right now. At least until I'm really finished.

Alex

By the time we're lying across from each other you've told me about all the bottles... about what they meant to you, and I wish I hadn't given up so soon. Or at least wishing I'd gone home with you the night Donovan died.

I finally get my chance to respond to your confession as you brush the hair away from my neck and over my shoulder,

"I'm not angry about the bottles, Olivia. I can understand why you bought them… and I'm so proud that you didn't open them. I'm sorry that my leaving made you feel like you needed to drink again."

"I never stopped feeling like I needed to drink Alex. That wasn't the point. Or maybe it was, or rather is the point, I don't know. It's just that when you called and said you were coming back it was the first thing I did. I gathered up all those bottles and dumped them down the sink, just like I did with the bottles after you left the first time. It was easier this time though, cause I knew you were coming back, and I was ready to keep you this time."

"Livvy…"

"I know, Alex, I know. It's not for good."

"Not yet."

I lean in to kiss the top of your head and settle in closer to you. Suddenly the innocence of our pose shifts, and I can see from the way you're looking at me that those bottles are out of your mind once and for all.