Chapter Eight:

When I step into Alex's office, I'm not surprised to see an explosion of paper across her desk. She's usually a very neat person, but when she gets involved in her work, the papers around her tend to multiply until she finishes up. She's got at least three different files open in front of her, and her glasses are balanced on the edge of her nose as she flips through them. Her hair is pulled up into a graceful knot at the back of her neck, and I can see a few bite marks peeking out from above the collar of her shirt. I'm a little surprised that she didn't bother covering them up with foundation, but I can't deny that I enjoy the sight. Before Alex, it wasn't something I thought about at all, but lately, a lot of her requests have started to creep into my own fantasies. She's rubbing off on me.

Before I can laugh at the double-meaning, Alex looks up and gives me a tired smile. She's happy to see me, but I can tell that this has been one of those days. A bad one. The kind of day where we won't have sex because it reminds us too much of work, and she mostly just wants to talk. Normally, I don't mind when she has those days. I deal with them at least as often as she does. But for some reason, I find myself disappointed. My sex life with Alex has always been good - better than good - but something is on the verge of changing between us, and my libido has picked up on the shift.

"Hey," I say as I stride toward her desk, leaning one hip against it. When she doesn't seem to notice the seductive pose, I give up the last of my hopes. I'm not the type to push my luck when she clearly isn't in the mood. "What's up? You look beat."

Alex sighs and slumps a little in her chair, leaning her head back and staring up at the ceiling. She raises one of her hands so that she can reposition her glasses. "I am beat. I've been reviewing everything you gave me for the Cavanaugh case…"

Her voice trails off, but I don't need to hear the rest. The Cavanaugh case has been a slow, unpleasant slog for all of us. The perp, Roy Barnett, is slightly more charming than the average scumbag, but nothing too unusual. The victim is a little more complicated. Male, and a teenager. Never a good combination. Just the right age to be terrified of his sexuality, even though I'm positive he's straight, and just attached enough to his abuser to be reluctant to testify. His mother hadn't seemed too thrilled about the idea, either. We had all been hoping that Alex would say the rest of the circumstantial evidence we'd collected would be enough. "Let me guess. We need more?"

She nods her head, still gazing at the ceiling above her. "A lot more. Aside from Sam's word, we don't have any proof. Either he testifies, or the case can't move forward."

I can tell she's disappointed, and I lean over the desk, resting one of my hands on hers. "It's all right," I say, running my thumb over her knuckles. "Elliot and I will find something else. He's back from his vacation. We'll bring Barnett in, see if we can scare something up that you can use."

Alex sits up straight in her chair and gives me a disapproving look. "Absolutely not, Olivia. You know he won't cooperate if you question him. All that will do is set him on the defensive. What I need is a solid piece of evidence. Access to his computer, another victim that isn't past the statute of limitations, a recording…" Her brow furrows in thought, and she pulls her hand out from under mine. I can see the spark of an idea behind her eyes. "Hmm. A recording…"

"What kind of recording are you thinking? It's not like Barnett's going to invite us in to search his house for kiddie porn."

A small, satisfied smile pulls at Alex's lips. "Not that kind of recording. We don't need the porn if we've already got a confession."

"Confession? Didn't you just order me not to bring him in?"

"We're not going to bring him in." The light is back in Alex's face as she looks up at me. She pushes up from her seat and stands behind her desk. All of her weariness melts away. "We're going to provide the rope, and Barnett's going to hang himself. We already know one person he won't be afraid of talking to."

Suddenly, I realize exactly what she means. Who she means. "Sam? So, what, you're thinking a wire?"

"Exactly." She begins pacing back and forth in the small space between her chair and the window, turning whenever she hits the wall. I stay braced against the desk. There's no getting her to sit back down when she's like this, but it's a vast improvement on her earlier mood. "As long as his mother gives permission, and he's aware of what he's doing, I can use anything Barnett says to him as evidence."

"You know whoever Barnett hires as his lawyer is going to scream entrapment, don't you?" I ask. But Alex isn't listening to me. She's excited, wired, and I can almost see the energy pouring off of her. This is why she's good at her job. This is why she has the highest closure rate of any ADA we've ever worked with in SVU. And this is also one of the reasons I feel such a strong pull toward her.

"His lawyer can scream entrapment all they want. If we get Barnett on tape, I'll get it before a jury. Sam won't need to testify, and Barnett can rot in prison." She stops pacing and whirls around to look at me. "Get his mother on board. She trusts you. Convince her to grant permission."

I frown. As bold as Alex's plan is, I'm already having my doubts. "Are you sure this is the best way? It might be easier to convince him to testify. If we wire him up, that means putting him back in direct content with Barnett. Who knows what that would do to his head? Put yourself in his shoes. Would you want to go and have a friendly chat with the guy who molested you for years?"

Alex doesn't even wait a beat. "He's sixteen years old, Liv. He was molested by another man. Do you really think he's going to want to tell an entire jury what happened to him? Barnett is a known factor. Sam thought they were friends. He'll probably be a lot more willing to talk to Barnett in private than to me on the witness stand. If we put him up there, who knows what he'll do?"

My lips press tight together. Before, Alex's excitement was infectious, but now, I'm starting to get annoyed with her. "That's my point, Alex. Who knows what he'll do in either situation? He's confused. Part of him still doesn't think Barnett is a bad guy, and he's probably terrified about what that means. Sure, he might choke if you put him on the stand, but what makes you think he won't if we try to record? It could be really damaging for him. Do we really want to fuck with this poor kid's head even more after what Barnett did to him?"

Alex leans forward over her desk, resting both hands on the edge. Her eyes flash at me behind her glasses. "If it means stopping Barnett before he slithers away and finds another victim, I'll risk it. You know I'm right, Olivia. Thirty seconds, and it's done. Over with. Sam won't have to testify, and he won't have to see Barnett's face ever again."

I can tell before I even answer that I'm not going to win this argument. Alex might like to give up control when I fuck her, but it's a miracle if anyone else can out-stubborn her once she sets her mind on something at work. Even I can't get through to her. I sigh and shake my head. Alex is determined to do this, and once Elliot, Fin, and Munch hear her plan, they'll probably go right along with it. I let out a long, slow breath. Maybe she's right. Maybe this is the best way. My instincts are telling me that everything is going to fall apart, but I've been wrong before.

"Fine. Look, are you almost done here?" I stare down at the piles of paperwork that are still spread across her desk. She looks at me with a surprised, slightly hurt expression, and I soften my voice. The two of us are usually pretty good about leaving work at work. It's the reason our relationship has survived this long. "I was thinking we could grab some dinner. I just don't want to talk about this anymore."

Some of the crackling energy around Alex fades out. She smiles and circles the desk to stand beside me. "Well, if you're buying, I won't say no. What were you thinking? Fancy, or casual?"

"Definitely casual. Tonight feels like a pizza and beer night. Yeah, we can add hot wings," I finish before she can ask. Some of Alex's food preferences aren't what I'd expected when we first started dating, but I know all of them now.

She threads her hand through my elbow, linking our arms together and pressing against my side. "Then lead the way, Detective Benson. That 'won't say no' is now a definite 'yes'."

I'm comforted by how normal our conversation is. During moments like this, it's easy to forget our work fights. It's easy to pretend our lives are normal. A few weeks ago, I probably could have managed to forget about Alex's fantasies, too. But as I let her go so that she can grab her purse and jacket, I realize that I don't need to. They're on my mind a lot, but they don't bother me so much anymore. I've stopped thinking of them as a problem that needs to be worked through, or a secret that needs to stay buried. Our relationship hasn't changed, the sex hasn't changed, and Alex definitely hasn't changed, if our argument was any indication. They only thing that has changed so far is me. And despite my fears and breakdowns, I'm starting to get used to it.