DISCLAIMER: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit and all characters are property of NBC and Dick Wolf…with some play given to USA. All supplementary characters are completely fictitious.
PS: Sorry for the heinous delay, kids. Life happens!
WINDOW
Chapter 8: Where Did We Go Right?
Alex thumbed the strike on her gunmetal Zippo and watched the flame sputter. She saw the gas from the flame ripple the scenery beyond as the smell of it swirled its way into her nostrils. She looked down at the cigarette crushed between the fingers in her left hand and simply couldn't find the strength to bring it to her lips. Instead she just focused on the flame. Small and bright and volatile. Her phone rang and she snapped the lighter closed with a metallic clap.
"Cabot," she had flipped open her phone, letting the broken cigarette fall from her hand. She listened, murmuring into the phone every so often. "Yeah, I'm sitting outside the hotel." Alex listened to the canned voice on the other line. "No, she's still shaken up. She just got to sleep... I'm staying in the adjoining room next door for the night," she paused and almost laughed. "No, I will not steal the hotel soaps for you." Leave it to detective Stabler to try and make light of Alex's current situation. "Thanks Elliot, and tell you partner... I don't know. Tell her to call me."
Alex snapped her phone shut and leaned against the railing of her tiny hotel balcony. She had been leaning on it for the last hour trying to smoke a cigarette. Just one, to calm her nerves. But all she had been doing was watching the cars, the people and the flame flicker and die. She gazed over to the next balcony, into the hazy glow of faint light from adjoining room. It had been two days since the shooting at Lucy's and Alex was exhausted. Lucy had calmed down considerably and, to the casual observer, might even come off as relaxed. But Alex had heard her in the night, her cried muffled, but present, through their shared wall. Alex would quietly open her suite door and slip silently into Lucy's room – Lucy always left her own adjoining door open so Alex could come and go as she needed – trying to calm the girl as she thrashed in her sleep.
The young red-head was now sitting inside, on the bed, unwinding and re-winding a skein of yarn. She had told Alex that she liked to knit, that it calmed her down. But all Lucy had managed to do so far was unravel the yarn and wrap it into a perfect ball, over and over again. The yarn was a deep ultramarine blue and there where bits of it floating about the room from where the yarn had been worked over too many times. Alex noticed a tiny ball of bight blue fuzz clinging to the arm of her black sweater and picked it off, watching it float in the breeze, up and into the night.
Alex let her thoughts drift to Oliva, to whom she had not talked since the night of the attempted shooting. Alex was busy with Lucy and apparently Liv was obsessed with the case, to the point of excluding all else. Alex didn't mind this so much, but she did want to talk to Liv, to hear her voice. The closest she'd come to having contact with Liv the last few days was signing off on, and then petitioning a judge to sign off on, a warrant Liv had sent over so the squad could search a safety deposit box, corresponding to the mystery key in Lucy and Tawny's apartment.
"Geez, Liv." Fin looked across the dimly room to see Benson working, illuminated by a single desk lamp. "Take a few hours at home or up in the crib if you have to. You look like hell." He crossed the room and placed a tentative hand on his colleague's shoulder. Normally, Olivia shrank from unwanted contact, but she practically leaned into it, she was so tired.
"Thanks." She replied, a sigh dragging her speech from her lips. "I'll catch a few in the crib." Fin nodded and turned to leave. Olivia shuffled the papers on her desk and tapped them until they were straight. She then grabbed her coat and bag and climbed the stairs to the crib. She hadn't been home since she and Alex had slept side by side and couldn't bear the thought of going home to her empty apartment. Sure, Alex had only been there for a night, but her presence had flooded the rooms, deep into every corner. Olivia knew if she tried to sleep in her bed alone, she would be plagued by thoughts of Alex, her soft fragrance lingering on the pillow. Invading Olivia's thoughts and filling her dreams with longing.
She couldn't bear it and she felt guilty. The guilt stemmed from the fact that she would rather have Alex with her than allow Lucy the comfort Alex provided. She knew what had to be done and that the victim always came first and, up till now, she had no problem with complying, often going above and beyond to provide care and comfort. But she couldn't help her selfish, subconscious, desire for Alex. And on the very edges of that guilt there was the faintest tinge of jealously. She knew it was ridiculous, but Olivia was a bit, well, jealous that Lucy was occupying all of Alex's time. Hadn't they had a revelatory night? Didn't they love each other? Had that night actually happened? Or was it merely some fever dream that ended with gunshots in the home of one Lucy Maguire?
It was all just happening too fast. They had leapt too early and now Olivia felt she was free falling. The feeling wasn't unfamiliar and she didn't trust herself to act rationally in light of its presence. She needed to talk to Alex, but Alex was occupied with Lucy and the case. So at this point, Liv thought as she slid her shoes of and nudged her bag under the sparsely made up bunk, all I can do is catch the bad guy. Secure Lucy's safety and she could have Alex back. Easier said than done, but she was driven, obsessed. If solving this case meant some much needed time with Alex, then Olivia would stop at nothing to see justice served. Yes, her motives were less than pure, but they ultimately served a greater purpose, in addition to her own. Liv sighed and flopped down on the bed. She sprawled out and sunk into the mattress, letting her mind spin into oblivion as she fell into a restless, dreamless sleep.
"Hey" Alex stood in the doorway of the adjoining rooms, arms crossed, leaning on the doorjamb.
Lucy looked up from the tangled pile of yarn in her lap. "Hey." She began picking at the pile, finding the knots and then pulling them loose. "Nice work on that cigarette. When did you quit?"
"Last month, how did you know?" Alex raised an eyebrow at the girl who seemed engrossed in the bright blue yarn in her lap.
"Tawny's brother would crash with us on the nights her step-dad beat him up or kicked him out. We used to live with Mark till he ran out of cash, then he moved back in with Paul and Maureen. Poor kid was only sixteen when he moved out the first time, he lived off money his mum gave him until it ran out. We would've helped more, but we were in the same predicament." Lucy sighed, though Alex couldn't tell if it was over the story or a particularly tricky knot she was fiddling with. "Anyway he and Tawny used to sit on the porch and 'not smoke' for hours. They both quit after Maureen's first cancer screening." Alex listened intently, from the doorway and nodded. She then took a few steps into the room.
"I've perfected the art of a non-smoking smoke break, myself. Um... Can I come in?" Alex asked tentatively, unfolding her arms.
"Sure. You know, you don't have to ask." Lucy said without looking up from her fingers, "And anyway, you come in all the time without asking. I hear you at night." Alex looked opened her mouth to defend her actions. "I'm sorry, that was rude. I don't mean to sound accusatory. I know you're just trying to help." Lucy motioned for Alex to come and sit on the edge of the bed then went back to her tangles. "And it does help," she added as Alex sat down delicately so as not to disturb Lucy's work.
Alex haphazardly fished around and found one end of the yarn pile; she twisted it around her fingers while she talked. "I am. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable; I was only trying to calm you down. You sleep so fitfully, and sometimes you cry out." Alex looked at the yarn, now twisted around the fingers of her left hand. She picked at it, trying to free her captured fingers when she felt the cool brush of Lucy's fingers against her cheek. She started and raised her eyes to meet those of the young girl before her. Lucy was so young. Her auburn hair was pulled back in the blunt ponytail Alex had grown accustomed to seeing. Lucy's bangs were swept to the side and fell across her face. Her freckles, dusting the bridge of her nose and the apples of her cheeks, stood out against her pale, ivory skin. And Lucy's eyes shone luminous and emerald behind the black frames and panes of her glasses.
"I know. I dream that I'm alone and then I wake up and find that my worst nightmare has come true." Lucy made soft circles with her fingertips and traced Alex's jaw-line. Alex almost leaned into the touch, but instead she remained stiff and a bit shell-shocked at the blatant, intimate contact. Her mind flashed to Olivia as Lucy continued to speak. "And then you're there. When I'm so afraid to be alone. When my fear is almost too great. You speak soft words and brush my hair back." Lucy pushed a loose strand of silver blonde behind Alex's ear and Alex swallowed. Hard. "It's like…" Lucy paused, "Imagine being fed the same thing for years. You come to rely on it. It sustains you. Then one day this life sustaining whatever just vanishes. And all you have is emptiness, hunger and fear." Lucy shifted and brushed Alex's chin tilting the blonde's head a bit closer to her own. "Then someone comes to care for you, someone who alleviates your fear, who understands your hunger for sustenance. You do understand, don't you?" Lucy's gaze was serious and all Alex could do was nod slightly.
Alex could feel the soft touch of fingertips trailing down her neck and grazing her collarbone. Her head was foggy and a voice deep within shouted something indeterminable. She closed her eyes, trying to gain some focus, when suddenly, there was the unmistakable pressure of Lucy's lips on her own. The fingers that had been tracing the lines of her collarbone were now woven through the hair at the nape of her neck and she was being pulled into a deepening, passionate, desperate kiss.