Loom hung low in the sky. The ominous gray billows framing the Jumbo-Tron that displayed Sir Toby's face in all its twisted glory.
It confused Olivia, how people could look at that man and see "innocent," instead of the sleazeball aura that radiated off him like an expensive cologne.
Maybe, she was jaded.
No, she knew she was jaded. Extremely so. But with jadedness comes an undeniable sharpening of the senses. Wisdom, discernment...and a crushing weight. But that's for later.
Olivia huffed, turning on her heels to leave and facing a crowd of people doing the same. She didn't know why she had detoured into Times Square,
gone out of her way to ogle at a man on the screen whom she had been with just mere days ago. It was stupid.
It was a civilian move, and Olivia Benson was not a civilian. Though sometimes she wished she was.
Even now, she could feel the golden badge on her hip. It was a part of her. Ingrained so deeply that the thought of losing it was irksome. It was more than a job. It could, and often did, bring both beauty and brokenness; It added an ominous tint to the world she saw.
It placed her in the race for justice, but sometimes the race just lasted to long.
She huffed again, the action an absent reflex. She sank into her wool coat. Warm, tried and true, wishing that it would just take her home. As if a coat could do that...
And 'home' didn't mean her apartment. It meant a place much farther.
She made her way through the throngs of tourist. Their forms illuminated by the bathing light of the square. It was always bright here. Never a dull moment.
Whether that was good or bad, who was she to judge?
The simple question multiplied itself five times two;
'Who are you to be a cop?'
'Who are you to be a mother?'
'Who are you to be alive?"'
'Who are you?'
They looped through her mind as she trekked an. Incessant and never ending.
Suddenly, Olivia colidided with one of the faceless forms. It was a young girl, or better said, woman. With brown skin and brown eyes and brown hair. And a easy smile to boot.
"It's okay." She breezed, before Olivia had a chance to utter an apology, leaving the older woman speechless.
Once again, the kind stranger became just that - a stranger. Dissolving in the bathing light of the square.
The bar was packed.
The scene of patrons was mixed,
Some obvious usuals, hard drinkers tucked into a corner,
The business clad sitting at the bar, ties slackened and lipstick smudged.
Every soul had duplicate dead gazes.
And though most sat quietly, the bar was loud and noisy,
It more a feeling in the air than a sound. It was their chaotic thoughts that filled the room. Louder than any words one could speak...
But Olivia didn't mind. She needed the loud and noisy, because if she didn't...then the questions would come.
Names like Elliot and Lewis and one of her least favorites, Father - would be tossed around.
The daytime Olivia would be immensely alarmed at her presence here; This dreary hole in the wall, which catered only to the deeply troubled.
But the sky told no tale of daylight.
So this other, this Nighttime, post-case Olivia emerged. Fully ready and willing to surrender to the worst.
Daylight was no longer around to save her, she thought, not even shuddering at the realization.
Go figures.
Proving the fact, she heard no protest as her slack fingers wrapped around a fourth cup of whatever. The cheapest drink on the board.
Upon further inspection, it was Vodka. A cheap undistilled Vodka.
Slightly, her stomach turned at the similarities of her mother, at the taste of William Lewis. That's what he tasted like - sweat and vodka and pure insanity. But now was night. When the moon hung high and her feelings hung low. Besides, any terrors the elixir managed to conjure up about him, they would soon eradicate with it's sweet intoxication.
A bit of a catch-22, she reflected with irony.
She glanced down at her watch, registering with relief and a bit of amusement that her vision lagged behind her head, and took a beat to focus.
It was a red or green or whatever color flag that any alcohol intolerance she'd built up was weak at most Her trip to the bar was warm, tried and true. Like her coat.
It's not like she drank away her fears and tears every night. Lately, she had been doing pretty good at cutting back to just the weekends. And it wasn't like she had been doing it for a long time either. That god-dammed Part 33 had drove her to this place for the first time in years.
"Mam...that's your sixth."
Through the dirty haze of cheap vodka, came a voice. It was the bartenders. His eyes were soft and so was his body. Though his hair was anything but. The bleach-blond tendrils so spiked that she figured his family called him something retarded like Spike...
"I can count." She spat back. Her voice holding an uncharacteristic grate. A tone one could only get from wallowing in a bar at night. "Besides, seven is the number of perfection. Give me one more."
Soon, another glass interrupted her staring at the distressed oak bar-top.
And in one swoop, the pungent liquid occupied the empty spaces inside her stomach and her heart.
With the ease of a drunk woman, Olivia walked towards the blurry fuzz in the distance that was her apartment building. The street was uncharacteristically dark and the loom that had enveloped Times Square now had seeped onto her street. Maybe the gray clouds were following her. In sync with that thought, they let out a scream and started crying upon her, their tears mingling with her own as She violently threw up on the curb.
With her last ounce of dignity, she angled her falling body away from her own throw-up and onto a cleaner piece of sidewalk.
That was it. She was done. Her undoing had been a long time coming and now was its time. All those years of work she had put in, all that, just to end up like her mother; Drunk and alone. She put her hands in her head and just sobbed. There was nothing left for her to do.
All of my life I've ran with the wind, out to the open sea,
Taking my dreams out in the world, hoping you'll wait for me,
And when my boat comes in, the loving can begin,
if your still there for me when my boat comes in.
Sail on, sail on, I'm so tired of life.
Sail on, sail on, I look for the light to say I'm home.