Previous disclaimers apply ...

A/N – Thanks so much for all the reviews and messages they're totally keeping me going! This may be going the 'M' rated way next chapter or the one after.

Ok, spoilers for season 3 and what not, oh and yeah … keep the faith!

Apartment of Alexandra Cabot, ADA

Later that same evening …

'Knock' … 'knock' … 'knock'

Sometimes there are definite advantages to being a cop, that and the night doorman of Alex's building has always had a little bit of a soft spot for me.

I suppose now would be a good time to clarify the rules, since I'm about to break every single one of them.

It started out as a bit of a joke, I think, following on from a little teasing at my expense after word got round that I showed up to a crime scene in a silver sequined dress. I think the words 'Benson had a hot date' rumbled through the courthouse grapevine and landed on Alex's desk right before I arrived one afternoon to prep for trial.

"So?" her eyes sparkled with devious delight. "I hear I'm six feet tall with dashingly good looks and astonishingly blue eyes?"

I think I sighed, because she was right about one bit.

I hadn't seen her to speak with privately since I ran out on her that night to go and meet Fin, still that didn't stop her sending me chocolates and flowers by way of 'thanks' – actions she then admitted she did to stoke more fuel onto the fire!

"Alex!" I reprehended.

"What?" She used her hands to push away from her desk and gestured that I take a seat on the couch. "I thought it would be funny, wasn't it?"

I shrugged, I wasn't mad at her, just starting to get confused.

"I'm sorry Liv," She handed me some water, and we both screwed the tops off before taking long, cooling drinks. "For the record I had a really great time, and you …" She added, with that same wicked grin, "were a big hit!"

I sat hunched forwards, my elbows on my knees – comforted by my 'cop' stance. I took a deep breath before deciding I might as well just come out and say it.

"Alex … I think we need some rules."

'Knock' … 'knock' … 'knock'

I'm beginning to regret this dynamic gesture, I don't know if it's because it feels like I'm either too late, or too early in my coming here. This grey area we've wandered into scares me shitless, and with our professional contact out of the picture now for at least a month because of her suspension, I've suddenly realised I can't imagine going that length of time and not seeing her.

Who am I kidding? A month, I can't even go a day without wondering why she hasn't been by the precinct to see me, or called me over to her office on some lame excuse. It got so bad the last few months I started dreaming up excuses to stop by her apartment after work or at the weekend, basically any time I didn't happen to be working.

Two weeks after the charity benefit, we sat together in her apartment. I'd dropped by in the afternoon to return her dress after picking it up from the cleaners and on impulse we decided to get a late lunch. Lunch turned into a trip by the video store and a bottle of wine and all of a sudden she leapt up from the couch and disappeared into one of the bedrooms, returning with a tattered, yellow legal pad.

"You said we needed rules." She stated, matter of fact. "Alright then, lets have some rules."

I chuckled and got up from the couch, hoping to pour us both more wine. I'd helped myself to another bottle from her stash and had it opened and in the glasses before I even considered that I should have asked her before doing so.

"I just think we need a couple of rules Alex, that's all … kinda like 'no sending fake romantic gestures to each others work-places' sort of rules."

She chewed the end of her pencil adorably. "Ok, rule one – Alex isn't allowed to send chocolates or flowers to Olivia at work."

I laughed. "I think it would be okay if the rules were a bit more general than that!"

She nodded. "Fine, can I still send donuts though?"

"Those are for the whole squad, besides – I think Munch might cry if you stopped doing it." I joined her back on the couch. "I was thinking more like we just need to keep some of our 'outside of work stuff' away from our 'inside of work stuff' and vice versa."

"Okay …" She paused to inhale and sip some of her wine. "Rule One – there are three Olivia and Alex's; The SVU Detective and the Assistant District Attorney who work together, the Alex and Olivia who are friends …" She paused to raise her glass to me, indicating where we stood right then, "And the Liv and Alex who have each other's backs when times get hard."

The softness in her voice when she described the third 'us', the most important 'us', set off a warm liquid feeling in my chest that wasn't completely down to the wine.

She clapped her hands together excitedly, immediately setting down her wine. "Fights!"

I shrugged. "I can't wait to hear?"

"Rule two …" She ploughed on. "Work Alex and work Olivia may fight, those fights mustn't extend beyond the precinct, courthouse or my office – with the rare and occasional exception of Mulligans."

"What about if we need to fight about something that's not work related though?" I asked, unable to think of a specific example but the constant pushing for her to go with me to a Baseball game was bound to give rise to the occasion sooner or later.

She frowned. "Such as …"

"I don't know Alex! Friends fight sometimes, you know – not everyone likes to do the same things all the time?"

She laughed, her lawyerly stance firmly back in place. "Amendment A to rule number two – Olivia and Alex who are friends outside of work may fight about non work-related issues if either one feels strongly enough about it, for example - should one half suggest going to a Mets game," She narrowed her eyes, before lighting up again, "Or the Ballet?"

"These rules have sub-sections now?" I asked, incredulously. Suddenly struck with an image of Alex Cabot as a child making lists.

"All the best ones do."

"What about the other Liv and Alex?" I asked softly. "Do they fight?"

"No." She answered definitively. "Amendment B to rule number two – Liv and Alex who have each other's backs never fight, fighting during such times is not allowed."

Suddenly the certainty in her voice made me feel exposed and vulnerable. "Then we should have some kind of rule that says stuff said during the having each other's backs times doesn't get pulled out at any other time, y'know, kind of like a weakness or something …"

She looked a little sad that I felt the need to clarify that. "Very articulate Liv."

I stuck my tongue out at her. "You're the lawyer."

"Fine. In accordance with Amendment B of rule two; Rule Three states that any of the following: talking about feelings not related to the current situation, arguing with the person in need as to whether they are right or wrong and using past experience drawn from either 'work' Olivia and Alex or 'friends' Olivia and Alex is not permitted during times when either Liv or Alex have each other's backs."

"Unless it's … y'know, really necessary." I quipped.

She threw the legal pad at my head. "Liv! You were the one who wanted rules!" She scurried for the pad again and picked up her pencil, scribbling furiously in my face so I could read.

'Rule four – the lines are clearly marked, they should never be crossed'

I laughed, and took the pencil from her.

'Amendment A to rule four – the lines can be crossed, if they have to be.'

So here I am, stood outside the front door to her apartment, ready to invoke my rights to Amendment A of Rule Number Four – after all, I had my lawyer present.

If only she was in.

"Liv?"

I turn around to the sound of heels coming down the coridoor.

"Alex."

I'm almost relieved, I don't know why, exactly, but it made me anxious when I got to her apartment and she wasn't there. I wonder just how scared I really am for her? She looks tired, and unusually dishevelled, like wind, rain and the general grime of New York City have ganged up on her all at once.

She still looks beautiful though.

"Where were you?" I ask.

She frowns as she finally reaches me, looping one arm around my side to unlock the door. As she invades my personal space I can see that just like in the courthouse, she still can't make eye contact.

"I could ask you the same thing, Detective."

'Detective', not Olivia, or Liv, but Detective.

"You went to my apartment?"

"Yes." She pushes past me to walk inside. "But you weren't there, so then I went to Mulligans and Elliot said I just missed you." She sighs as she drops her bag and coat over the back of a chair around the kitchen island. "I should have figured you'd be out celebrating."

Her words sting they're so acerbic. "We weren't celebrating Alex, just blowing off some steam, this has been one hell of a case."

They say you can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink. Well it also turns out that you can lead Alex Cabot a hundred different ways into a conversation but it still doesn't mean she'll talk.

The air inside the kitchen is electric, and not in a good way. It's so charged inside her apartment that I feel like a magnet stranded in a room full of rogue iron filings, pretty soon I'm gonna be covered in this shit.

"So, you wanna tell me more about what happened with Donnelly?" I ask, thinking perhaps a bit of innocent chitchat will help to calm her down. "Did she rap you on your knuckles and tell you you've been a bad …"

"Liv …"

" … girl?"

Heaven knows what I'm trying to do, something about the nervous tension building inside me makes me want to crack inappropriate jokes and seemingly bait Alex even further.

"Fuck you Liv. This is my career we're talking about."

I suppose I deserved that.

"Alex …" I approach cautiously, hoping if nothing else that she'll see from the soft look I'm giving her that I 'really' do care about what happens to her. "Alex." I gently lay a hand on her arm, with all the grace of a lion tamer and none of the charm. "Alex, please, could we maybe just have some wine and sit down and talk?"

She nods, teetering on the brink of tears. It's a start.

The last time we were here together in her apartment there was something so fragile in her stance I remember thinking I'd never look at her the same way in court ever again.

But a lot of things happened over the last few days; nothing that can't be fixed and nothing that the rest of us haven't done before but this is Alex we're talking about not some passionate detective with a point to prove or an axe to grind.

I know Elliot said she betrayed us with the search warrant, but she needs to understand it's not the garnering of an illegal search that he minds, it's the fact she felt the need to shoulder it all on her own and not tell us about it.

Suddenly, we're not a duo anymore, we're three, and before I know it I'm laughing to myself because Alex is the 'good one' in this story who just passed the first test at getting 'in' with the delinquent rebels.

"It's all I've got." She says, handing me a glass of something Californian and red. "I finished the last of the good stuff when I got home."

"Arthur?" I ask, hoping that after her meeting with Liz she didn't then have to endure being reamed by Branch as well.

She shakes her head. "Just Donnelly."

I can't stop myself from asking, it's the proximity, and the fact she's sat beside me on her couch, turned slightly against me – our knees just barely touching.

"Alex, what happened?" I ask. "This case … it's not like you?"

To be passionate.

To be headstrong.

To let your heart rule your head.

There's a softness in her eyes I've only seen when she's been the one giving comfort to me.

"Liv, how many people would you say you help, in a year?"

It's a bit left field, but okay, I'll bite. "I don't know Alex, a lot, why are you asking?"

She shrugs. "Do you remember all their names?"

I pause, and inhale sharply – recalling something Elliot once said to me when he caught me making a follow up phone call thirteen months later to a fourteen year old girl.

"Liv …" He said, as if he'd known the second I had a minute to myself that's exactly what I'd be doing. "If you keep calling her then how can she move on?"

"I'm just checking in on her El," I lied, pretty sure she'd be just as fine as when I called six weeks before. "Her life turned completely upside down, she found out her grandfather was also her father then helped us put him away for the next 25 years."

He stared at me, and quietly placed his finger down to hang up the receiver before anyone had chance to pick up.

"I know." He whispered. "And I know this last case got to you, but you have to let it go, you have to let her move on with her life."

"What if she just needs someone to talk to?" I mumbled, betraying my own need for comfort, not the girl's. It came off the back of a similar case, only this time we lost and the kids weren't so lucky – the father took out his entire family to keep the sick truth from getting out.

So I put down the phone. "I know I've got no right to call her." I admitted. "It's just … sometimes the bad ones make me want to check in with the good ones, y'know?"

He nodded. "I know. My kids wonder why there's some cases where I just can't look at them for a while, and some after which I can't let them out of my sight."

"At least they're there every night when you go home."

"Damn right."

Now, whenever I have the urge to get too involved with a victim, or too close, I think of Elliot and how he distances himself because he doesn't want 'their' hurt to affect 'his' family.

Well I don't want Sam Cavanaugh's hurt to affect 'my' family, and right now – that includes Alex.

I stopped deliberately remembering their many names after that night, but I also can't lie to her, there are some names you never forget.

"Not all of them." I say, softly taking one of her hands. "But some of them."

"I don't think I'll ever be able to forget him." She whispers. "The look on his face the night he left my office, or the look his mother gave me that night at the hospital and the way she was when I went to her home and betrayed her, again and again."

"You didn't betray her Alex." Her eyes are filling with tears but she looks away. "You did what you had to do to get justice for her son."

"Some justice." She forces out – deadpan through choked back tears. "Tell me Liv, if he was your son, would you rather he was molested, or became a vegetable … if you had to choose?"

"Alex."

I know she knows she's not being fair, and I already know that I'll lose this round. I can see it in her eyes, the way her pupils dilate out of fear and her breathing ratchets up a notch. She's spoiling for a fight like she was the other day at the precinct, and we're about to see how far she thinks she can push me.

"Can't make the decision Liv?" She baits me. "Fine, get a lawyer. They'll go ahead and make it for you."

"Alex …"

I'm putting off rising to the challenge of entering this debate with her. Whilst it remains a self-pitying diatribe of a monologue we'll be fine. Once my side weighs in, we're screwed.

Her eyes flare with fury, because I wont give her the fight she wants to validate how much she despises herself right now.

"Even if you 'do' make a decision, if it's not the one I want to hear – expect to be making a new one."

"You didn't put the pills in his hand Alex." I try. "And you certainly aren't responsible for Roy Barnett raping him."

"Even if I want to take responsibility?" She whines. It feels like the start of our descent into a bad place. "The great SVU detectives get to feel the weight of their responsibility all the time, you all share it, you even wallow in it from time to time … Elliot makes a few more dents in some dry wall, you crack out the self-destruct button and wait for Cragen to come bail you out from under IAB and the one time, the one time I do anything even remotely stupid people act like I didn't have it in me and like I did myself some great injustice." She stops for a second, seemingly lost in her own tirade. "Nobody gives a damn about the kid …" She mumbles. "What about his injustice, why isn't anyone blaming me?"

My heart aches for the sadness in her voice, and for a second I forget just how angry she still is.

"Because, Alex, sweetheart, it's not your fault."

Seconds later I find myself stood outside her building in the rain, cool droplets of water running down my face as blood pulsates angrily through my temples. I left my jacket indoors so the temperature outside slows my heart rate, as I re-play the words she just said to me, over and over inside my head.

"Just like 'you' never gave your Mom that last drink she had before tumbling down the stairs, doesn't stop you thinking every day that it's your fault though – does it Liv?"

She's lucky I happen to love her; I've hurt people for a lot less.

TBC

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