Ok. Am I fully aware I have too many stories on the go? Yes. Is that going to stop me from posting this one? Sadly not. I apologise but also, I really hope you enjoy this story. This chapter is just a little intro. The best is yet to come ;)

I'm still at the restaurant

Still sitting in a corner I haunt

Cross-legged in the dim light…

Glass shattered on the white cloth

Everybody moved on

I stayed there

...

'Elliot put his papers in.'

She hears the words, sees his mouth moving, and her heart stops. It doesn't skip a beat, like everyone says it does when you're in shock. She physically feels her heart stop and drop to her stomach and her entire world collapses around her in that moment.

'Do you want to talk?'

Not to him, she doesn't. She wants to find Elliot, beg him to come back, beg him not to leave her, to throw her arms around him and sob. She wants him to tell her that it's all a misunderstanding, a bad dream. He wouldn't leave her like that, ever. Then she thinks that, actually, she'd prefer to shout at him, to hit him, to demand to know why he'd leave her without so much as a goodbye. Weren't they closer than that? Hadn't she given enough? Didn't she deserve at least a 'goodbye, Liv'?

But she knew she wouldn't do any of that, couldn't be the reason he stayed. If he stayed for her, he'd resent her, and she wouldn't be able to live with the guilt, with the pain. So, selfishly, she knew she'd let him go. She thought she'd accepted a long time ago that people left her, that nothing lasted forever. She'd never known her father. Her mother had turned to alcohol shortly after her birth, leaving her only child to fend for herself.

Alex.

Oh god, Alex.

Alex is different, she told herself. Alex didn't want to leave her. She'd had no choice. It was that or risk her life, and it didn't matter that, to Olivia, she was her whole life. It would have been selfish to even think of asking her to stay for her. Even though all she'd wanted to do was drop to her knees and beg her not to leave her.

Like everyone else did.

Her mind casts back to that one night they'd had during the Connors trial.

Vanilla perfume. Chocolate covered strawberries. Hotel bed sheets. Red lipstick.

She tries to push the thoughts from her mind.

It dawns on her that she's still standing in Cragen's office, and she needs to move before she breaks down in front of him. He'll force her to take a day then, she knows, and the last thing she wants is to be alone. Being alone with her thoughts is one of the things she dreads the most in her day-to-day life, let alone just now.

In a daze, she walks out, softly closing the door behind her, and makes her way over to her desk. She can't avoid walking past his too, though she tries not to look at it. Fin catches her vacant expression.

'You okay?'

It's a stupid question, he knows that. It's written all over her face that Olivia is very much not okay, but there's very little he can do. It's Liv, after all. He's worked with her long enough to know that she would never let anyone see past the barriers she spends so long constructing around herself. He's not sure if it's to do with her parents or a constant need to prove herself, maybe both, but whatever the reason, he knows all he can do is let her know he's there on the off chance she decides to let someone in. Usually it's Elliot, but he's not sure exactly where Elliot is right now.

Olivia nods, not trusting herself to speak until she's sure she won't burst into tears in front of everyone. She's acutely aware that Cragen is watching her from his office, can practically feel his eyes boring holes in the back of her head.

'Yeah.'

She barely hides the way her voice threatens to crack.

What does she do now? She stands awkwardly at her desk because she doesn't want to just sit down and pretend that nothing's wrong. Everything is wrong. Nothing can possibly be right again without him. What sort of detective even is she without him?

Is she a detective without him?

She doesn't know what to do with herself. Luckily, Munch unwittingly saves her.

'Got a 10-42 on Waverly.' He looks her way, holding eye contact for all but a second. 'Fin, take Rollins.'

No. She needs this. She needs to feel as though she's doing something, anything. At least this will take her mind off things for a bit.

'No. I'll go. Give me five and then we'll roll.'

Munch doesn't look convinced, but Fin nods and that is enough to satisfy her and to allow her to slip back into detective mode.

Badass Benson, she knew they called her. She needs to bring that Olivia back, because if she has learnt one thing in her life, it's that there is no use in wallowing. Wallowing in your pain and feeling sorry for yourself got you nowhere. Maybe that made her cold, but it also made her a damn good detective, and she knew it. When Alex had left the last time, she'd barely taken two minutes to register it before she was interrogating a suspect in the rape case they'd been working on for the last three weeks.

You had Elliot, then, a small voice in the back of her mind told her.

Shut up, she told it.

She'll be fine. She's not entirely alone. There is still a squad room full of people who love her. Fin would take a bullet for her, she knows that much, and though Munch pretends not to feel anything for anyone, he loves her like a little sister and would protect her just the same. Everyone knows Cragen loves Olivia like the daughter he never had, and she similarly views him as a father figure.

She'll be ok.

…

It's been five minutes, and Olivia realizes it's time to go. She grabs her blazer from the back of her chair, and stands up, a hot coffee that she assumes either he or Cragen must have placed in front of her in one hand and car keys in the other. She wants to drive; anything that might help distract her is a good thing. Fin comes to stand next to her, facing the doorway, before she turns around. She catches a glimpse of Cragen watching her between the blinds on his office door and gives him a small smile to get him off her case. Worrying about her won't bring Elliot back.

'Livia?' Fin murmurs.

He sounds surprised, almost wary, and she can only assume it's because she doesn't know how she'll react. Nothing can surprise her though, not today.

Or so she thought.

Because she instantly proves herself wrong when she turns around and sees a woman standing in the doorway wearing a red sweater and dark blue jeans. Her blonde hair is longer than when she last saw her, but there's no doubt in her mind who it is. The rest of the squad have all taken their jackets off and rolled up their sleeves to combat the stuffiness in the office, making the blonde's choice of clothing strange. But then again, Olivia supposes, she always did run cold, even in the middle of August.

'Alex Cabot.'