Chapter 6
Setback
Alex rolled over on the couch and glanced at the clock—4:15. 'Shit' she thought. She was 15 minutes late to wake Olivia. After Olivia fell asleep, she had collapsed into the charcoal grey microfiber couch and fell asleep easily, with thoughts of taking care of the beautiful brunette detective swirling in her dreams.
She grabbed her glasses from the table and stood up. She walked down the long hallway into Olivia's bedroom and sat on the bed next to the sleeping detective. She spent a minute looking over the sleeping beauty. Olivia looked so peaceful, but so injured—her first knuckle on her left hand was split open, and the bruise on her forehead ran from her hairline through her eyebrow and into her closed eyelid. The bruise was almost black, radiating brown and yellow hues from the center. She didn't look at the bruises on her upper thigh, but could only guess that they were just as bad as the one on her head.
Alex studied the detective for a few more minutes. She was the same Olivia she had left years ago, but there was something different about her: she was harder, colder, and somewhat less interested in everything than she was before. It was nice in the taxi hours before, and Alex knew that it felt like old times. She could only hope that things would remain that way. Softly, she shook Olivia's shoulder.
"Olivia…Olivia wake up sweetie." She knew that calling Olivia 'sweetie' was probably too much, but she didn't know what else to say. She wouldn't dare call her 'Liv,' again, like she used to, but she wanted to be comforting.
Olivia stirred and opened her eyes, then quickly squinted at the pain over her eye. She moved her hand to cover her head, but Alex stopped it.
"Hey, I'll get you some ice if you need it—just don't touch. You've got a pretty big bruise," Alex said.
"No, it's ok—I'll just go back to sleep. After you ask me some questions, I assume?"
"You're right detective," Alex said with a smile. "Dr. Simmons said to ask you some simple questions that you should know the answers to, so here we go." She thought for a second and then chuckled. "But, I guess I'll need to know the answers too to make sure that you answer them correctly." She laughed and then paused to think.
"Ok. Who is your partner at work?"
"Elliot Stabler."
"Good. Ok. Umm…What's your middle name?"
"Rosaline."
"Perfect. Last one. What's 5x5?"
"25."
Alex smiled. "You seem fine to me. Is there anything you need? Do you want some Advil or ice? A heating pad? Water?"
Olivia closed her eyes and moved her head a little. "I'm ok. Thanks though. You didn't have to do this Alex."
'What was this I'm seeing? Empathy? Fondness?' Alex thought before she answered.
"It's no problem. I just wanted to make sure you're ok."
"I'm fine. See you in a few hours." Alex's smile faded slowly, but she knew this wasn't the time to try to wiggle her way back into Olivia's life. The detective was hurt, and that was Alex's first priority.
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6:15. This time, Alex woke up on time and walked into Olivia's room. She was tired, but she knew that Olivia needed her, and it felt good for Alex to take care of someone—it was very cathartic, she thought. She stepped into the doorway and knocked twice lightly, instead of saying something stupid like 'sweetie' again.
"Olivia. I'm sorry, but I have to wake you up again. Are you feeling ok?"
"My head is killing me. I have some Advil in the bathroom—would you mind?"
"Not at all. I'll be right back. Try to stay awake so we can talk for a second."
Alex walked into the adjoining bathroom. It was immaculate. Decorated completely with white subway tile lined with black grout, Olivia's bathroom was beautiful. Alex could tell that the detective's apartment probably cost much more than the old one, and she was happy that Olivia was finally thinking about herself for a change. She saw a large whirlpool tub, a separate shower stall closed by transparent black glass, and a toilet with an adjoining sink. The bathroom dripped with style, but Alex only saw a few personal effects: Olivia's toothbrush and toothpaste, a bar of facial soap and one washcloth. She quickly fantasized about seeing Olivia through that black glass, showering in this room, but she realized why she was in there and immediately located the medicine cabinet above the toilet.
She opened the door and, by judging the rest of her bathroom, Alex was not surprised that the cabinet was extremely bare. She instantly saw the Advil bottle, but was distracted by something else—the only other object in the cabinet.
On the second shelf, there was a small bottle of some sort of fragrance. It was a dark brown bottle and had a long, tag-like sticker attached to it. Alex didn't want to be nosy, but she knew it would only take a second to read. Long, flowery handwriting adorned the sticker and Alex couldn't help herself.
Now you can think of me when you put this on, baby.
There was a small heart drawn at the end of the sticker. A pang of jealousy hit Alex, but she couldn't help herself. She grabbed the bottle and smelled. It was the exact scent Olivia was wearing the other night at the club. 'Two guesses who this is from,' Alex thought. She returned the bottle and tried to remember that Olivia was injured and she was the one taking care of her—not the young blonde. This eased her jealousy and anger quite a bit. She was focused on Olivia. The scent she loved so much at the club now smelled awful, as if Alex never wanted to smell it again.
"Got it. Do you have water?" She called to Olivia while she was walking back to the bed.
"Yeah," Olivia croaked. She didn't sound great, but insisted that she was fine. "Proceed with the questions, counselor," she said with a small smile, as she swallowed the Advil Alex handed her and drank some water.
"Ok. I'm trying to think. It's been so long since we've actually talked. I don't know anything about this new Olivia," Alex chuckled.
"Nothing new."
"Ok. What's your favorite color?"
"Yellow."
"Really? I didn't know that."
"Alex, really? You're supposed to be asking me questions that you know the answer to."
"Right. Ok. Oh, I remember one! Who is your celebrity crush? Or, if it's changed, who was it circa 2002?"
"Charlize Theron."
"Glad I'm still right. When I was in WITSEC, I went to this theater and they played 'Monster' every year as part of a Serial Killers marathon around Halloween, and I always thought of you when I saw it," Alex admitted. "Well, not because of the killers and stuff, but because of her." Before Olivia could say a word, Alex continued. "Anyway, one more question—what color dress were you wearing earlier tonight?"
"Red."
"Ok, detective Benson, you seem ok to me so far. I'll see you in 2 more hours." She turned to leave the room and was surprised by Olivia's voice.
"Hey," she paused until Alex turned around and faced her. "Thank you."
"Olivia, it's no problem."
"Yeah it is, but ok. Thanks for taking care of me. You better start thinking of three more questions for next time." And with a chuckle, Olivia settled back into her bed.
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At 9:45, Alex woke up from the couch and immediately looked at her watch. She knew she was late waking up Olivia, but she didn't know how late. As she made her way back to the bedroom, she smelled the aroma of dark coffee, and turned back towards the kitchen. She saw Olivia sitting at the small table, one hand on her head, and one around her large coffee mug. Alex recognized the cup as a gift Elliot had given her when he made fun of her for only having 1 coffee mug at home. It was black, with the NYPD logo laser etched in silver—the cup could hold almost 20 ounces and Alex remembered Olivia filling it almost full every morning in the squad room years ago.
"Hey…you're up," Alex said as she stretched her arms over her head. "Are you feeling ok?"
"Yeah. My hand hurts, but other than that I'm fine. Thanks for your help. Sorry you had to sleep on the couch."
As Alex moved closer to the table, she saw Olivia in the sunlight that drenched the apartment. Her face looked horrible—she was able to see the bruises on Olivia's upper thigh, as she was wearing short running shorts and a small tshirt. Alex couldn't help noticing how strikingly strong and beautiful her body seemed, but was taken aback by how abused she looked.
"Oh Olivia—are you sure you are feeling ok? You look…" her eyes traced the black and purple bruise on her forehead and into her eye. She watched the hand that gripped the coffee cup and the split knuckle wrapped around the handle. She examined down her body to the 4 small bruises on her leg. Since early this morning, they had all meshed together and made one long, slender bruise along the front of her leg.
"I know," Olivia said with a shake of her head. "If you want some coffee, there's some in the pot—I'm gonna try to get a shower."
Olivia began walking, or as Alex noticed, limping, to the back bedroom. The light sound of the drizzling shower began, and Alex knew she probably shouldn't suggest it, but it just came out.
"Hey Olivia. Not to be weird—and I know that things are still," she thought for a moment before continuing, "different between us." Olivia looked at her with a questioning look. "But, I know you're hurting, so if you need help, just let me know."
"Oh. Ok. I think I'll be O—oww." Olivia was trying to remove her shirt, but brushed her open knuckle against the fabric under her shirt, snagging a piece of open skin on a loose hole in the shirt. "Damn."
Without asking for permission, Alex approached Olivia and helped free her hand from beneath the shirt. There was blood all over the shirt and the back of her hand. Olivia turned with her back to Alex, and crossed her arms in front of her breasts.
"Olivia, you should really have that stitched."
"I will. I just want to get a shower first. Thanks for your help," Olivia said as she shut the bathroom door with her back. Alex stood at the door, thinking. She loved Olivia, and used to have a hard time resisting her, but now that she was around the detective more, she was sublimely happy to be around her—no matter how she was feeling or how, or if, their relationship would develop. But, Olivia seemed more standoffish. The encounter in the club was the friendliest the detective had been, and even that wasn't normal for Olivia.
Alex walked back into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. She began to drink and sat at the table. She looked around Olivia's new apartment—she smelled fresh paint, new hardwood, and cleaning products. She new that the detective liked to keep her apartment clean, but it seemed almost as if Olivia never even lived here, which she knew could be true because of all of the work Olivia does at the precinct.
She had a large TV mounted to the wall in the living room area, and three large, black bookshelves full of all kinds of literature. Alex always admired how well read Olivia was, but she never knew where that love of literature came from. She got up from the table and slowly examined the books. Among them she found classics, fiction, historical accounts, and, of course, NYPD handbooks, case files, and guides. She pulled out the only book with a bookmark in it to see what the brunette was currently reading. She flipped open "East of Eden," and noticed a blue pen underline on the page.
"I believe a strong woman may be stronger than a man, particularly if she happens to have love in her heart. I guess a loving woman is indestructible."
Alex smiled at this. This gave her hope that, although Olivia was distant, she was still the same Olivia that Alex left so long ago. Lost in the thought, she didn't hear Olivia the first time she called. She called for her again.
"Alex? Sorry. Can you come help me?"
Alex placed her coffee cup down on the table and walked into Olivia's bedroom. The sight almost melted her into a liquid puddle on the floor. The detective was standing facing Alex with a tight sports bra covering her breasts, and a pair of jeans pulled up around her hips, black lace boy short underwear peeking through the opened zipper.
"Sorry—I can't button these pants and I need help with a shirt, if you don't mind."
"No problem." Alex reached for the short sleeve NYPD shirt Olivia had laid out on the bed and stretched the neck hole over Olivia's head. She gingerly helped the detective pull her arm through the armholes and pulled the t-shirt over her abs. The back of Alex's hand brushed against Olivia's abdomen, eliciting a small 'sorry' from the attorney. Alex hadn't noticed before, but there was an outline of a six-pack in Olivia's abs and it was evident that Olivia was much stronger than when Alex left. She slowly reached down and pulled the zipper up on Olivia's jeans, and had enough room to button them without any problem.
"You really should buy some smaller pants. You've lost some weight."
"Actually, numbers-wise, I've gained weight. But yes, I've lost some inches."
"Well…you look good," Alex said as she pulled the shirt over the closure of Olivia's pants. They were so close that it was hard for Alex to pull away from Olivia, until she smelled it—the scent in Olivia's bathroom-the same one that she smelled in the club. A twinge of jealousy hit Alex in the stomach, but she moved backwards and told Olivia that they should probably go see Dr. Simmons to get her hand stitched. Olivia agreed, and looked for a change of clothes to give Alex.
"You still a 2?" Olivia asked from her closet.
"Yeah."
"Well, I've got small 4's and a belt. I think that's the best I can do for you."
Alex laughed. "That'll work." She changed and they headed out of the apartment.
"I've been meaning to tell you, your apartment is really nice. It seems very…you."
They both entered the elevator and started the descent into the lobby. "Thanks—I wish I spent more time here, but that's the nature of the beast…and, I just moved here so I haven't been able to sit down and enjoy it." Alex looked at Olivia longingly, understanding exactly what she meant. They exited the elevator and hailed a cab to Dr. Simmons office.
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"Ok detective, looks like you're good to go," Dr. Simmons said as he finished wrapping up her hand.
"Thanks—sorry about last night. I know I probably wasn't very receptive to your care."
"No problem. You were obviously receptive to someone's care, so that's all that matters. You seem much more put together today," he nodded his head towards Alex, who was sitting in an adjacent chair averting her eyes—she didn't have a strong stomach for watching anything as medically invasive as stitches.
"Oh," Olivia said, "Yeah, she stayed at my apartment and followed all of your instructions."
'Wow. Cold response,' Alex thought.
"Well, good," Dr. Simmons said. "I'll let you get ready to go. The nurse will be in in a few minutes—I prescribed you some antibiotics. Make sure you keep this wrapped, keep it clean, and the stitches will dissolve." He turned and closed the door behind him, as Olivia nodded in agreement with his instructions.
Olivia's phone buzzed on the table between them, but she didn't notice. Alex turned to look at the phone and saw a new message.
Liv r u ok? Haven't heard from u. Thinking of u. xoxo.
Alex knew exactly who it was, without knowing her name. She knew that the monosyllabic abbreviations could only be coming from one source. She had never felt this type of jealousy before, and unfortunately it came out in full force.
"Your girlfriend texted you," she said coldly as she passed the phone to Olivia.
An irritated Olivia turned to Alex. Her eyes narrowed and her lips parted. Alex was semi-nervous as to what would come out of the detective mouth. "What?" Olivia bit the word out towards the attorney.
Alex passed her the phone without looking at her and Olivia read the message from Hope. As she responded, she spoke slowly, typing as she was speaking, "she's not my girlfriend…not that you have the right to know anything about my personal life," Olivia fumed.
I'm fine. Long night—long story. A little injured, but I'm fine. Tell you about it later.
Alex responded, her eyes meeting Olivia's. "No, not your girlfriend. You just wear whatever she tells you to wear, go with her wherever she wants, and make out with her in public. I'm sure that was her dress you were wearing last night too, huh? But nooo, she's not your girlfriend…right? Because if she were your girlfriend, I'm sure she could have come over last night and helped you…if it wasn't past her curfew that is—how old is she, anyways?"
"Excuse me?! You have no right to talk to me like that. Things aren't the same between us Alex. You were back in New York for three months before you even acknowledged that I still lived in this goddamn city too. Don't act like you want to be friends—or whatever—again. You know nothing." Olivia's eyes burned with pain, and when she stopped speaking, her jaw clenched.
"I saw you, Alex, in Alphabet City, before you came into the precinct—that hurt. This?" Olivia motioned to her head and hand, "this is nothing. You didn't even tell me you were back in New York and now you want to act like you want to be friends again just like that," Olivia snapped her fingers with her uninjured right hand, "No way." She pointed at Alex, "fuck that."
She grabbed her phone and keys and stormed out of the room. She met the nurse in the hallway for the antibiotics, quickly thanked her, and was out of Alex's sight. Alex apologized to the doctor and nurse, and continued out into the street. She knew she had blown it. She had lost her cool, and now, after all of the effort she had tried to put in already, she had set herself way back. Alex hailed a cab and immediately gave Olivia's apartment address, thinking that the detective would be going back home.
She arrived at the modest building in Brooklyn and was buzzed into the lobby. She quickly got into the elevator and rose to the fourth floor, down the hallway and to apartment 44B. She was upset—mostly at herself, but she calmed herself down enough to knock politely on the grey steel door.
"Olivia," Alex tried to sound calm, comforting. "Olivia please open the door."
Alex heard nothing. No shuffling of feet, no TV, no shower running. She knocked once again to make sure the detective really wasn't there. She studied the slate grey door, with large, white numbers, 44B. She took out her phone from the jeans Olivia had let her borrow that morning.
Where are you? You're hurt and should be resting.
Olivia I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have said that. I overreacted.
I really think we should talk—that's part of this problem.
She locked her phone and put it back in the left pocket of the jeans. She didn't know where to go, but figured she would go back to her apartment and try to make things right. She was walking slowly out of the apartment building when her phone buzzed.
I'm fine.
Pretty sure talking is what got us into this. Bye.
Alex went home and sat down on the couch. She stared into the distance and finally decided to take a shower and a nap. All she could think about was Olivia, and she hoped that whoever that woman—girl was—was taking good care of her.
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Olivia immediately left the doctor's office and went down into the subway. She was furious, but for some reason, she knew that taking the subway might relax her. She rarely took the subway because she and her partner always had a squad car, but it reminded her of being a kid, and she thought it might ease her mind. She should have gone straight back home and locked herself in her apartment—she knew Alex had probably been there, but she knew she needed to go to the precinct.
The subway rested at her stop and Olivia exited and climbed the stairs onto the street. She walked into the 1-6; it was completely deserted. The past two weeks had been rough, and mostly everyone had wrapped up their cases. Someone had to be catching, but they probably decided to stay home and keep their phone on them in case they got a call. Olivia enjoyed the solidarity of working on her cases alone.
For the next few hours, she finished up every single detail on her recently closed cases. She could honestly say that she had all of the lose ends tied up, and didn't have much else to do. This was a rare occasion, but Olivia enjoyed being on top of her work.
The texts from Alex infuriated Olivia. The detective knew that being involved with Hope was a bad idea, but she wasn't in love with her. It was a guilty pleasure for, if nothing else, sex. It was nice to feel wanted, and almost worshipped by a younger woman, but Olivia knew that it had to stop. She took out her phone and texted Hope.
Hey. Thanks for your concern this morning. I was in a sting operation last night and got a little banged up, but I'm fine. Was wondering if we could meet tonight somewhere low-key? I'd like to talk to you over dinner.
Given that she had already started one tough conversation, she thought she might as well start another one. She awoke her computer and opened her inbox. She had 2 new messages—one spam message from a local sporting goods store and one from a victim's mother. The email thanked her for the work she and Elliot had done catching her daughter's rapist a few weeks earlier. She quickly responded with courtesy and respect, thanking the mother and daughter for their help and cooperation. She sent the email and then immediately clicked the compose button and began typing, before all of her courage ran out.
Alex,
This isn't easy for me to say, but given this morning's conversation, I feel like it needs to be said. I don't want to "talk" with you, and I'd rather not see you right now. Let me explain:
When you left for WITSEC, I thought about our relationship. We were friends, but I always thought there was something more there—whether you felt it or not, I always did. I know there was one night when I, unadvisedly, acted on those feelings, but nothing more ever came of it. However, I still harbored those feelings, so when you left for WITSEC it was pretty hard on me. I'm not sending this so you feel bad for me, or anything, but I just feel like you should know.
When I was out in Alphabet City and saw you walk by the bar, I was upset. Maybe I looked into our friendship too much, but I thought you would at least tell me when you got back to the city, or even the state. So when I saw you out at the club, I tried to be nice. When you took care of me last night, I appreciated it. But, this morning I don't understand what happened. We can't get started in this again—there were too many feelings involved last time, and I don't want that to happen again.
I understand that we have to work together—that's fine. I have never let anything come between a victim and myself. But, we can't be friends.
I'm sorry.
Olivia Benson
Special Victims Unit
Benson.O
She hit send. Olivia understood that the email was open, vulnerable, and at the same time, cold. She finally got it all out in the open, but immediately shut down any further contact—which is what she needed to do. She knew she didn't want to, but in her head, she knew that's what had to be done. Her phone buzzed on her desk. She had almost forgotten that she texted Hope a few minutes before.
Sure! Are u sure ur ok? John has to work swing shift tonight, so I'm free after 7—everything ok? Where do u wanna go?
Olivia responded quickly. It was already 5:30 and she would have to go home and change.
I'm fine. Just want to talk. Feeling Thai? Brooklyn?
Hope immediately responded.
Sounds good. New place in Williamsburg, Northside? See you then. Xoxo
At that moment, Olivia was happy that Hope had no idea that she had moved. That restaurant was way too close to her apartment, and she was hoping that later that night would be the last time she would see Hope. Olivia knew she had feelings for Hope, but she also knew that the young blonde was there to fill a void—in all of the years that Olivia was trying to better herself, she had never admitted to herself that she was, in fact, just filling an empty hole with meaningless relationships. She was ready.
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By 8:30 Olivia felt like the worst person alive. She had just left the Thai restaurant, without eating much. She looked into the young blonde's eyes and told her, truthfully, that she didn't think this relationship was a good idea. Hope's eyes filled with tears and she had reached for Olivia's hand. The detective wouldn't deny that tears hadn't filled her eyes as well, but it was an easier conversation than she had thought it might have been.
Olivia was emotionally exhausted and just wanted to go to bed. She opened the door to her apartment and made her way to her bed. She disrobed and put on some pajamas, and placed her phone on her nightstand. She carefully unwrapped her hand, cleaned around the stitched wound and rewrapped her hand for the night. She sank into her bed as her phone buzzed.
I understand. I'm sorry for being so emotional. U are a wonderful person. I'm gonna talk to John & figure out whats goin on with us. I'm sorry, but I hope one day we can b friends.
This message made Olivia feel better, even though she knew that she had broken Hope's heart. She unlocked her phone to respond.
That would be nice. Again, I'm sorry, but I just think it's best for both of us. This relationship was just not healthy for you or me. Good luck with John.
Olivia rolled over and felt a surge of relief in her chest. She had known for a long time that this needed to happen, but she didn't expect it to be so seamless. Quickly, her thoughts turned to Alex. She so badly wanted to run to her, and hold her and have everything be perfect between them, but at the same time she didn't ever want to see her again. Olivia knew she couldn't go through that pain again, and didn't even want to subject herself to being open to Alex a second time.
She set her alarm for 5:50AM. This would give her enough time to get up and run a little. She would have to forego her normal 5 mile route, still being cautioned to rest, but it would give her enough time to come home, shower, and get her coffee before work. She set her phone on her nightstand and drifted off to sleep, thinking about Alex, and how she would react to the email the next day.