"Welcome home," she says sarcastically.
I drop my keys on the hall table and sit down on the couch. Why can't she be nice to me? I deal with sick criminals all day, who do some of the most horrible things to other human beings. Sometimes I wonder - why? Why do people hurt each other?
"The kids waited to say goodnight to you," she continues accusingly. "but they fell asleep." Her eyes narrow. "I saw the looks on their faces. They were very disappointed that you weren't there."
"Kathy..." I look up at her with pleading eyes. She doesn't know what I've been through; she doesn't know what she's doing to me. "Let's be civilized."
"Alright," she sighs, and she straightens her face out with effort. I guess she's too tired from waiting for me to argue. "So, what happened at work today?"
I wince at the question. She should know not to ask that. I can't burden her with all the horrible things I see every day. And that's the problem. I can't tell her what's going on at work, and then she gets suspicious because she thinks I'm being "unfaithful." Anyway, as of now we are working on a particularly hard case, physically and emotionally. A woman was raped and tortured by her boyfriend, and her family doesn't want anything to do with her because "she had it coming." It's taking its toll on all of us, but especially my partner, Olivia. She's the child of rape, and her mother was alcoholic and abusive, so she becomes very protective of rape victims. I worry about her a lot. One day these appalling cases might get to her, and then what would happen? I couldn't bear to lose her as a partner, or as a friend. She's like my whole life to me; my better half. She's one of the reasons I stay at this job.
"Nothing," I say, not looking at her. I can just see the wheels turning in her head.
"Okay," she raises an eyebrow. "You talk to Olivia about it?"
Yes. And no. She knows when something is picking at me, and she pries whatever it is out of me, whether I like it or not. Most of the time I like it; I feel better after I've talked to her about something and listened to her advice. She gives great advice. But something else entirely has been bothering me these past few months, something I could never tell her. It was only whispering at the back of my head, but I couldn't figure out what it was. But I realized it today when we were working on the case. I got very angry at the family of the woman who was raped. They were disgusted at the thought of coming to the precinct to be a family again. I could feel Olivia looking at me, pleading for me to calm down with her eyes, but nothing could stop me. Cragen gave her a look, and she grabbed my arm and led me somewhere quiet; I was too angry to watch where I was going. Before I could ask what she was doing, she wrapped her arms around me and put her head on my chest. Completely stunned, I stood stiffly for a few seconds, but then I relaxed, put my own arms around her, lay my head on hers, and shut my eyes. That was when it hit me smack in the face. I realized what my heart had been trying to tell me. I had fallen in love with her. I love everything about her: the way she walks, the way she talks, she way she laughs, how she can make my heart melt and my knees weak when she smiles, how she can make me feel like I'm her number one priority. When she touches me, however quick or small the gesture is, my hair prickles and I have trouble restraining myself from pulling her to me and passionately kissing her. I can't imagine my life without her. I just wish I knew if she felt the same way. I just wish she loved me.
"She's my partner," I finally respond.
No, she's more than my partner, she's my life. I am hers, no matter what, and she is mine. We belong together, we complete each other. The first time I saw her, I knew it.
Kathy sighs deeply and gets up. "I'm going to bed," I only nod.
When she's gone and I hear our bedroom door shut, I put my head in my hands. I try not to think of Olivia and how much I love her, but all that comes to my mind is her.
"Help me, Liv," I whisper to the silence. "Love me, Liv."
In another's eyes
I'm afraid that I can't see
This picture perfect portrait
That they paint of me
They don't realize
And I pray they never do
'Cause every time I look I'm seein' you
In another's eyes