k_alexander_unbreakable1

Unknown

Produced by calibre 0.6.45

~ Unbreakable ~
by K. Alexander

DISCLAIMER Some of these people belong to me, but others don't. No infringement intended.

WARNING I'm not going to warn you about the lesbian relationship or gay sex in this fanfic. If you have a problem with that kind of thing and you're still trawling this site your problem is bigger than I can help you with. Instead I'm going to warn you about masses of angst, hurt, comfort, and a general overload of schlock psychology. This story is character-driven rather than otherwise, which means the plot won't dumbfound you with its complexity, but the continual conversations and inner musing might. If you don't like that, you've been warned. I take no responsible for bouts of crying induced by pure irritation.

COMMENTS Please note that while I have watched and loved this show, I'm by no means a seasoned enough television watcher to be totally sure of my correctness with the canon. I am, though, a big enough person to accept criticism on it. Glaring mistakes? Total delight? Find me at kalexy@webmail.co.za

AND FINALLY This will probably be the only actual fanfic I'll write. The story oddly came to me in one of those pesky dreams, and I just had to write it down. If melodrama pains you I apologize in advance…

Detective Olivia Benson's dark features tighten immediately as she walks into the station and catches sight of the cameras, the foreign equipment, and the sound engineer sitting quietly in one corner with a pair of headphones on his head. The Director of Photography glances at her once, then again in the span of a few seconds, the man's pale blue eyes candidly appreciative and speculative before he leans towards the short man sitting next to him for a few quiet words.

Detective Elliot Stabler can't help a small reluctant smile from creeping onto his lips. He takes a strange sort of pride in his partner, though he will never admit to it, and though he usually hides it behind playful banter if she notices him grinning like a cat that got the cream. It's this same pride that had him straightening the haphazard pile of paperwork on her desk when he came in this morning. From its rapidly diminishing size he can tell that she's been up late again, sorting through mountains of evidence for that one elusive detail that would nail this case shut. If he were to ask she'd deny having been hunched over her desk in this room until much too late in the night, but she's been on edge ever since they found the first piece of evidence putting the esteemed Father Jeremy Rogan and a veritable host of very under-age choirboys in the same place at the wrong time.

Abuse gets to her on a level that she doesn't share; a level that drives her too hard and keeps her up at night, that pushes her too far and leaves her dark and remote. She told him about her mother once, about the rape and the subsequent neglect and the sometimes ache of broken bones, and for a moment there Elliot thought he'd been let into that place nobody ever saw - until her dark eyes, up until that point fixed to his in the way that made you feel she took in nothing else but you, shifted away and didn't stop moving again. He knew then that the words, while illuminating in themselves, meant nothing when measured against the things she didn't say. As close as he is to her, and he is perhaps the closest person to her, he understands that there is a piece of Olivia which he cannot push to have. It is that part of her that almost embarrasses her fellow officers when it slips - the part that compelled them to leave her alone last week with one of the boys, when he (perhaps recognizing a kindred spirit) broke down at Olivia's gentle questions. Wrapping her arms around his collapsing lanky young-boy frame she shot a fiercely protective glare towards the men, nearly unthinkingly, but it was the vulnerability lurking behind the depths that chased them away rather than the façade of strength.

Now she is at the door, that same shifting glance that he knows so well picking out the unfamiliar elements in the room as she makes her way across to him. In her familiar leather jacket and black sweater she is all attitude, ignoring the appreciative glances from the strangers.

"Elliot. What's going on?"

Her eyes flicker to the boom swinger, a tall young guy incessantly chewing gum, his large padded earphones skew on his head, and Elliot's eyes follow invariably.

"You're not going to like it, Liv." It's said solemnly, but Elliot's blue eyes twinkle and somehow Olivia knows he's enjoying it way too much. Whatever it is, it's going to piss her off and he knows it. And he likes it. Folding her arms she sighs.

"Out with it, Elliot."

"We're about to turn into a feature on 'Behind the Badge'."

Midway through a perusal of the rest of the room her dark head snaps back, her eyes fastening on his with skepticism. "Nu uh. Pull the other one, Stabler."

"I'm not pulling anything, Liv. You'd kick my ass." He inclines his broad jaw towards a short man sitting in a folding chair in the middle of nowhere, a sheaf of papers spread out on his lap. "Meet the director, mister Trevor Weenan." As if on cue Weenan's eyes lift and he takes in the two dark detectives peering at him before he raises an impish eyebrow and winks insolently.

Olivia's eyebrows immediately rise in answer and her lower lip drops into that 'I'm containing myself" pout. "He'd better be winking at you, Elliot. Tell me he's winking at you."

"Somehow I doubt it." Elliot turns his head to look her up and down, from her neatly brushed dark brown hair to her unassuming comfortable leather shoes. "If you don't want the attention then don't dress like a vamp."

That gets a small smile from her, and also earns him a smack to the arm. "Shut up, Stabler." She glances over her shoulder at the office behind them. "Where's cap? Don't tell me he okayed this?"

Rubbing at his upper arm with a wounded expression he shakes his head. "Somehow I don't think dad had a say in this, Liv. He was a little strained when they first came in. Looks like it came from upstairs, and I suppose if they finance they get to choose where to advertise." His eyes are suddenly serious when he glances back at her. "I just hope this doesn't screw up what we're working on."

"How is that not going to happen, Elliot?" She tries not to take her impending frustration out on her partner, but it still creeps through in her voice. ""We're so close - if our information leaks we're back to square one!"

"Yeah, I know." He leans closer to grip her arm, but the knowledge of the director's eyes on them leads him to just touch her lightly. The emphasis, however, is clear is in his eyes. "We'll make it happen, Liv. We'll sort it out. Don't worry. Let Munch and Fin take the brunt of it. If only you weren't such damned … eye candy."

Laughing out loud at his casual comment and waggishly raised eyebrows Olivia shakes her head helplessly. "Eye candy, Stabler? Did you watch too much MTV last night?"

"With four kids I watch what's on." He shrugs. "Besides, Maureen's trying to … well, she calls it educate … me. Apparently her old man's a stick-in-the-mud."

"Hah. And with 'old man' you went right back into it." Though her tone is light her eyes aren't, and Elliot knows she's finished joking. "Where is Cragen?"

"He went down to the ADA's office for a little chat. I'm sure he'll be back soon."

As they're speaking Fin comes strolling through the door, all rough and tough and ready to roll. He's probably been in before, Olivia notes, because he barely spares the crew a glance as he approaches them - and if he hadn't seen them yet an offhanded remark is not something Fin would leave out. "Hey, Liv… " he pauses for a moment to watch as the loafing guys unexpectedly begin to move lights and cameras around them, "you and Elliot gonna follow up on that Andretti link today?"

Both Elliot and Olivia shake their heads quietly as Olivia leans in. "Ixnay on the shop talk, Fin. I don't want these 'bums and badges' guys hearing anything they shouldn't know."

"Gonna be a problem, that." He reaches back and adjusts his ponytail. "Apparently they've been angling to tag along. Obviously Munch and I can take the brunt of it, but," he sweeps his eyes over Olivia's lean form, "we all know who they gonna develop a taste for."

"Yeah." Elliot looks at her dryly. "I told her. Eye candy."

With a quirk to his mouth Fin cocks his head at Elliot. "Whoa. Eye candy? Ease up on the MTV, Stabler."

"And that's what I told him." Olivia grins a little before her eyes flicker over Elliot's broad shoulder. "Incoming."

The short director is approaching them with an odd shuffling gait, his smile blindingly white and much too cheerful. "Hi, hi." He extends a hand into the group at general and by seemingly unanimous consensus receives Elliot's for a handshake. For a moment, eyeing Olivia with pale blue eyes, he considers trying again, but then his glance falls on the suddenly glowering Fin and he re-evaluates quickly. "Trevor Weenan's the name - I met this big guy here earlier briefly," one hand considers patting Elliot's arm and then re-evaluates once again, "but I haven't had the utter pleasure…" This is directly aimed at Olivia, and Elliot thinks he might have to hold her back when Weenan tilts his head in a calculatedly endearing move which falls flat spectacularly. Copying his stance Olivia treats him to one of her darkest looks before she finally replies almost monosyllabically. "Benson."

Instead of freezing with pure terror Trevor Weenan almost giggles with glee. "Strong, silent, edgy… I love it!" He barely notices it when Elliot wraps a restraining hand around Liv's upper arm and utters a low warning, "Liv…" before the short man continues. "So this is what detectives do on a Monday morning - stand around in a huddle. Exciting. Is it actually a huddle or do you call it something else?"

Fin eyes him balefully. "We're going to call it self-defense soon." Shooting a glance at his colleagues he struts off to his desk. "'Scuse me - I got some things to do."

By silent mutual consent Olivia and Elliot take to their desks too, and begin to wade their way through the copious paperwork littering the surfaces. It is not long before Weenan's cameras are set up and he's ready to roll, and the frustration in his face is evident as Olivia picks up yet another document and begins to read through it with overt concentration. Panning the shot provides an equally mind-numbing view of Elliot, writing his way calmly and pointedly through an unidentified form. Even the arrival of Captain Cragen is a non-event, the older man lifting his hand in an impersonal greeting to Olivia and disappearing into his office only to close the door purposely. Half an hour later he sticks his head out of his door, ignoring the blinding light which is suddenly angled his way.

"Benson!"

Nodding in his direction Olivia reads the last sentence on the paper in her hand and puts it down on the pile before she pushes herself away from the desk and approaches Cragen's office. Inviting her in, away from the guy with the camera on his shoulder who's tracking her every move, he closes the door again, shutting out the chaos.

"Sorry about that."

She frowns and rubs the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger briefly before she glances up at him where he's perched on the side of his desk. "Who invited these guys in, cap?"

"Blame the city and the powers that be." Cragen's round eyes signal annoyance. "The CBC jumps at the chance to see what their tax money buys, and the upper echelons aren't all that dead set against a bit of publicity either." He shakes his head. "It's only for a week, Liv. Don't let it get you down."

The dark woman lifts a hand to rub the back of her neck tiredly. "Only a week? Jesus, cap, we're right in the middle of the Rogan case and we have to start treading lightly now?"

"Yeah, I know." Rising to his feet he walks around the desk and sits down in his chair. "If I thought it would help I'd tell them to stick with Munch and Fin, but they're not gonna do that, Liv."

Sighing, she raises her eyebrows at him. "Just don't say the words eye candy."

"What?"

"Nothing."

He shoots her a silent look before he pushes forward a piece of paper. "Here. What you've been waiting for. A warrant for Andretti signed by ADA Cabot. Go get that piece of scum." She takes the document and stands up, but his voice stops her as she reaches for the doorknob. "Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't stay late tonight. I don't want to see you around after six, okay?"

"I'm fine, cap."

His eyes take in the dark shadows under her eyes and the slight stoop of her shoulders. "Right. I still don't want to see you around tonight. Okay?"

"Sure." When she walks out they both know she's probably lying.

Mindful of the camera tracking her every move she approaches Elliot, who is chewing on the end of his pencil in abject concentration, and sticks the sheet of paper under his nose smoothly. Almost cracking the pencil in half he snaps his gaze to hers, and then to the writing under his nose. When he stands up to slip on his jacket Olivia is grinning.

"Let's go get the sucker."

A few of the camera crew are already packing up their equipment and when Weenan suddenly materializes at Olivia's elbow she shakes her head resolutely.

"Nu uh."

Trevor folds his arms in a gesture of obstinacy, largely absurd because both detectives are taller than he is. "The first thing happening this morning and you tell me I can't go? Sorry, honey. I don't think so. We have an all-access pass to this party here."

Elliot folds his arms, mimicking Weenan's stance, and seems about to step closer to the small man when Captain Cragen's voice sounds from the door.

"Step down, Stabler." When both detectives' eyes turn in his direction, he cocks his head and looks at them intently, the expression in his eyes conveying something beyond his words. "Take them along for the ride. Later on things may be too … sensitive. Right?"

Elliot still hasn't given up on the glare he is bestowing on Weenan, and it is Olivia who nods. "Right, cap." Pursing her lips a little she inclines her head at the short man. "Let's get on with it. We haven't got all day."

Andretti is an arrogant bastard - so confident in his own abilities that he has waived the right to absolutely everything. His options have been laid out very clearly to him by both Elliot and Olivia, the detectives painfully aware of the single camera behind the one-way mirror capturing their every move. It is there on the condition that none of the footage will be used without the consent of Captain Cragen, and though both detectives are furious at its presence they are forced to behave naturally in front of this strutting, chewing, winking specimen.

Even now, the tall darkly handsome man is sitting back to front on the chair, his chewing gum snapping as he looks Olivia up and down slowly with an undisguised leer. She is trying to ignore his stare, and from her stiff back Elliot knows that her patience is wearing thin. He himself has been trying to talk to this waste of oxygen for just over ten minutes, but Andretti is interested in nothing beyond making boorish remarks to Olivia. There is one thing Andretti hadn't counted on, though: their extensive knowledge of his background.

When Olivia motions for Elliot to leave with her eyes he conveys a quick are you sure? with his head before he abruptly stands and shoots Andretti a piercing look.

"I'll be watching you. Don't misbehave."

Sneering at him Andretti watches as the tall detective closes the door behind him before he grins at Olivia. "He into voyeurism?"

Ignoring his little crack she turns her chair backwards too, perching on it to stare at him over the table.

"Tell me about your childhood, Colin."

Andretti grins again. "Hey, you wanted to be alone with me. C'mon, honey, screw the talking."

Shaking her head she allows herself a small smile, an exasperated one though she knows he will interpret it as amusement. A little misinterpretation never hurt yet. "You know Jeremy Rogan."

He chews loudly, his dark eyes pleased. "You said that. I didn't."

"Mm." Olivia shrugs. "Right and wrong. You didn't say that, but I didn't either. Want to guess who told me?" She takes a breath and watches the movement of his mouth still as he waits, before she unexpectedly continues. "I can't tell you. But it's not something you can deny. Come on, Colin, dozens of people knew you as an altar boy. That's not something you can hide."

"So?" He pulls up his shoulders nonchalantly and almost forgets to leer for a minute. "So I knew him. So what?"

"So that wasn't so hard to say, right? Why would you deny it in the first place?"

He snorts ungracefully. "Whatever, detective. I can think of better things to do with you than to sit here talking about crap."

"And yet, here we'll be, talking about crap." She sits back. "How well did you really know Rogan, Colin?"

For the first time there is a flicker of doubt. He drops his head to look at her from under his long lashes, and his motions momentarily stop, before he shrugs again and forces a laugh. "Whatever you're trying to say, it's crap. You're wasting my time."

Olivia nods. "Okay. Just one more thing. Your son, Daniel, how old is he?"

In a flash Andretti's jaw begins to work spasmodically, the small muscles in front of his ears jumping wildly. He is trying very hard to be indifferent, but from a million little signs Olivia can see that he's anything but. She's been trained to crack open people just like him, and she's about to do just that.

"He's nine, isn't he?" Her voice is innocuous but her eyes aren't. The darkly handsome man glares at her suddenly, malevolence written over his features.

"Fuck off."

When she sits forward she's radiating revulsion. "He's nine years old, Colin, and you're letting it happen to him? You're his father, for fuck's sake! What's the matter with you?!"

"You don't know!" When his fist slams down on the table both Olivia and the detectives watching behind the mirror startle slightly. His chest is heaving, and his face is suffused with a dark angry flush. His mouth is contorted into a furious grimace.

Elliot shifts towards the door, concerned, but Captain Cragen puts a warning hand on his forearm. Tightening his square jaw the big detective stops, clenching his fists, his eyes locked on his partner on the other side of the partition. From the line of her back Cragen can tell that Olivia is on edge, but apart from the stiffening of her spine she appears calm to the man opposite her.

"What don't I know, Colin?"

"You don't know shit! Don't talk to me like you know anything!" He stuffs his fist into his mouth in an oddly infantile gesture before he glares at her over it. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Leaning back the detective folds her arms. "It's a little too late to say that now, Colin. Just tell me how you can live with yourself."

"You don't know shit." It's softer and broken, and when he glances up at Olivia his eyes are unexpectedly full of tears, searching hers until he finds something in them that he recognizes. Looking down he scowls, his jaw trembling faintly. "I had to take it like a man. I had to live through it."

"So you should know better!" This time it's Olivia slamming her hand on the table, her dark eyes livid. "You never had anybody to stand up for you! You should be the last person to even think about doing this twice!"

"If I tell about him … then I have to tell about me."

There is silence after he spits it out, and Olivia's head droops tiredly between her shoulders as she watches him. He's crumbled, gone from an arrogant bastard to a shattered boy in the space of a few minutes. He doesn't even look at Olivia when she speaks again, tiredly.

"Isn't it worth putting aside your ego for one moment to stand up for Daniel, Colin? All he wants is one person to care. One! Shouldn't that be his father?" He sobs quietly and a tear falls from his hanging head onto the polished wood of the table's surface. Sitting forward Olivia reaches forward over the table as if to touch him, though her hands stay short of his. "I want you to stand up for him, Colin. That bastard Rogan's going to keep doing what he's doing until somebody stops him, and that could be you. Do what you were supposed to do a long time ago."

He's quiet for such a long time that she thinks she may have misjudged the situation, and she is so weary and despondent that she misses the soft words he speaks.

"What?" Looking up she fixes her dark eyes on him intently. He doesn't meet her gaze.

"Yeah. I'll do it."

After all of that it's almost an anti-climax. With a small nod Olivia puts her hands on the table and presses herself up. "I'll send in an officer to take your statement, Colin."

She is at the door, turning the handle, when he speaks quickly and insistently. "I would have done something eventually, you know. I would have, detective. I do love him, you know?"

Taking care to hide the small bitter smile curling around her lips Olivia turns. "Now's your chance." And then she leaves.

Captain Cragen and the other detectives are standing in the hall, and though they are not actually smiling their shoulders are squarer than when the day began. Elliot steps closer, in front of the others so that Olivia is shielded from them, and grasps her shoulder gently. "That was great, Liv." He studies the lines of fatigue and darkness in the face that he knows so well. "You did great."

She smiles up at him, a half-hearted skew affair which means very little. "Thanks, Elliot." The assurance means nothing to her right now. Shifting from under her partner's light comforting touch she approaches Cragen, nodding absently at the praise the other detectives give her as she passes them. Tucking a hand under her elbow Cragen leads her away from the group, aware of the camera hovering at the perimeter.

"Good work, Olivia." She smiles again, that half-hearted skew smile, and he shakes his head slowly. "Don't let it eat you up, Liv. You've done what you can. He'll do what he has to."

"Sure, cap. Because I told him to."

"Hey. He could have refused." Cragen leans closer. "Liv. Go home and get some rest. You can't go on like this."

"No." For the first time her eyes meet his directly, and he can see the emotions rolling beneath the surface. It's not pretty. "Cap, don't send me home."

She doesn't want to be alone. Shaking his head to himself Cragen presses her elbow lightly. "Okay. All right. But before you get back to the case I want you to get out of here for a little while. Go do something. Have lunch. Or better yet… " he shoots a glare at the cameraman sidling closer, and then ponders giving her a constructive assignment to help ease the heaviness she must be feeling right now, "go and tell ADA Cabot we've got her witness. It's what she's been waiting for. Should make her day."

"Okay." She turns away from him and he watches in quiet concern as she walks down the hallway, her back straight.

ADA Alexandra Cabot has just realized that she is reading the same sentence twice when a knock sounds at the door. Closing the file with exasperation she folds her hands on top of it.

"Come in."

Olivia Benson sticks her head around the door. "I can come back if you're busy."

"No, of course not. Please." She waves a hand at the chair, smiling pleasantly as Olivia sits down. "What can I do for you, Olivia?"

"Don't fall off your chair," the detective warns good-humouredly, "but this time we're not asking you for anything."

"Well, wonders never cease." Even as Alex teases in exchange she's studying the other woman critically, and her very first impression is that Olivia looks like hell. The detective's usually friendly brown eyes are ringed with black circles, and exhaustion or something like it has drained her face of its usual color. Sitting forward the blonde ADA frowns. "Are you feeling all right, Olivia?"

"Sure." The dark woman's mouth twists into a semblance of a smile.

"Okay. My apologies, I don't mean to pry." Alex sits back, trying to convey her consideration in her body language. "You just look a little … tired."

"Not sleeping enough. Hazards of the job." They both smile, even though Alex has seen right through the subterfuge and Olivia realizes it. She continues in an attempt to avoid the blue eyes scrutinizing her over the square-framed glasses. "But enough about me. Good news for you. Andretti's signing a statement as we speak. We have the case in the bag."

A smile spreads across Alex's full lips. "Fantastic!" Though the blonde is never terribly demonstrative, Olivia can hear the true appreciation in her tone. She nods in agreement. Reaching up Alex tucks a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear. "Who talked to Andretti?"

"I did." Olivia tries, and fails, to deliver the line with a smile. Cocking her head Alex shifts forward in her seat.

"Olivia?"

"I told you - I'm fine." Wincing at her own impatience the detective lifts a hand to rub at the back of her neck with a sigh. "Sorry, Alex. I'm very tired. Didn't mean to take it out on you."

A small frown creeps onto Alex's forehead and she gets up from her chair, walking around the desk to perch on a corner of it so that she sits barely two feet from the brooding detective. Her long legs stretch out next to Olivia's chair.

"Olivia, talk to me."

The dark woman sinks down lower in her seat and shoots up a sardonic glance. "About being tired? I should think you know."

Alex bites her bottom lip in frustration. "Olivia."

Lifting her hand Olivia rubs once again at the back of her neck, a motion Alex has seen her perform many times. "It's nothing, Alex. I just… " she looks away, "he knew his kid was being molested and he didn't do anything because he was worried about his own abuse coming out." Her dark eyes narrow and she takes a deep silent breath. "I don't understand how anyone can do that. I don… " Abruptly she stops and shakes her head, at a loss for words.

Leaning forward Alex tries to reach her without invading her much treasured personal space in this abnormally sensitive moment. "Olivia, the fear of being discovered can be as destructive as the fear of not doing anything. He not only had to face the question of his own abuse, but also those about why he hadn't come forward yet. Guilt can be a crippling thing." Catching Olivia's glance she lifts her hands. "Hey, I'm not saying I condone it. Nothing of the sort. I'm just so used to playing all sides in these things."

"The right side to play is the nine year old boy's, Alex." Olivia's voice is tight.

"And that's what I'll be doing." If Alex were a tactile person she'd reach out to touch Olivia right now, to squeeze that tense shoulder, but she's not that kind of person and she'd have to guess that neither is detective Benson. Instead she flips her hair back and stands up. "I have an hour clear. How about getting some lunch with me?"

Pushing herself up from her chair Olivia stands too, stepping back a little when she realizes how close Alex is to her. "No thanks. I'm not hungry right now."

"Okay." Retreating into her professional façade Alex gets behind the desk and sits down. "Thanks for letting me know, Olivia. It's great news, really." Then that façade slips just a little and her voice softens. "Try to get some rest, will you?"

Nodding inattentively Olivia Benson turns and walks out of the door.

Elliot shifts forward, eyes glued to the action in front of him, and he is so engrossed that he almost doesn't realize it when Olivia slides into the seat next to him. Mark O'Connor, the sleazy lawyer for Father Rogan, is busily tearing into, and basically destroying, the testimony of one of the older boys called to the stand as a witness. Though Alex Cabot is lodging objection after objection there is not much she can do to protect this witness from the excessively sharp tongue of O'Connor. The tall graying man ends off his cross-examination with a devastating comment which is objected to by Alex and overruled by Judge Watson before he sits down and shoots a victorious and vaguely amused glance at Alex. Ignoring him she rises and calls Colin Andretti to the stand.

The tall handsome man is dressed in a black suit and his dark features stand out sharply against the starkness of it. He looks like he hasn't been sleeping properly.

Reaching out a large hand Elliot lightly grasps Olivia's and presses it, then keeps his fingers wrapped gently around hers. Glad for the comfort she lets him be, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

Having been sworn in, Andretti perches on the witness chair nervously, glancing up at the judge with a measure of trepidation. Rising, Alex approaches him with a soothing smile.

"Please state your name for the record."

"Colin… " his voice breaks and he clears his throat, "Colin Andretti."

She nods. "Mister Andretti, is your son Daniel Andretti?"

"Yes." He clears his throat again.

Reaching over to her desk Alex lifts a document and approaches Andretti. "Mr Andretti, according to a sworn statement given by you to a police officer yesterday afternoon, on the 23rd of February, you state that both you and your son had been sexually abused by the accused, Father Jeremy Rogan. Is that correct?"

Colin Andretti glances down at the smooth wooden surface in front of him for a moment before he lifts his head. "No. That is not correct."

In Elliot's hand Olivia's tightens immediately, the fingers bunching into a fist. Alex Cabot's hesitation is minute, almost invisible, but there is a flash of bewilderment in her blue eyes before she retaliates.

"I have that document right here with your signature on it, Mr Andretti." She lifts the paper for good measure.

Andretti's shoulders shift. "Yeah. That statement was made under coercion. They forced me."

The court explodes into sound, overshadowed by the banging of Judge Watson's gavel. "Silence in court! Silence in court!" When moderate calm is regained the judge inclines his head at ADA Alex Cabot and Mark O'Connor. "Chambers, please, councilors."

A soft murmur runs through the courtroom as they leave through the side door. Olivia is pale and rigid, her eyes fixed on Andretti as he sits uncomfortably in the witness box. Next to her Elliot is leaning forward, his face outraged.

When the judge and the lawyers return Alex's face is grim and hard. She slips into the seat behind her desk and begins to shuffle documents mechanically. Mark O'Connor, on the other hand, has the makings of a sardonic smile curling around his mouth. Leaning over the partition that separates the witness box from the judges' seat Watson addresses Andretti.

"Mr Andretti, you realize that it is a punishable offence to perjure yourself on the stand?"

"Yes sir. Judge."

"When you say the statement was made under coercion, can you explain to us what you mean?"

The handsome man swallows. "Well, I was taken in for questioning and the detective, Benson, I think, she was pressuring me, using my son as a threat, and I couldn't think clearly."

"Bullshit!" Elliot is out of his seat, shouting, and it takes another moment for the judge to calm down the court. Pointing his gavel at the tall detective he orders the bailiff to escort him out, and then turns to face the court.

"In view of the allegations I have no choice but to dismiss this witness for the time being. We will reconvene tomorrow morning at 10h00."

Olivia is up and out of her seat, and when she joins Elliot outside he's pacing up and down like a bull in a china shop, his expression dark as he glares at the security officers watching him cautiously. There is a cameraman hovering behind a pillar, his lens pointed at the female detective the moment she exits the doors, and with a clench of her jaw she hooks a hand under Stabler's arm and drags him down the hallway, away from the throng.

"That fucking asshole! I cannot believe he just did that!" Elliot is hanging back. Yanking his arm Olivia pulls him forward.

"Move, Elliot - get out of that bloody camera's way! And keep your voice down."

Yanking him with her she steps behind an ornate pillar, and he is about to snap at her when he notices the fury in the glint of her eyes and the set of her mouth. Leaning back against the plastered surface he takes a deep breath to calm himself and heaves a slow sigh. "Asshole."

"Rogan's going to walk." Elliott has known Olivia for long enough to recognize the rage in the deceptive calmness of her voice. Reaching out he wraps a hand around her shoulder and shakes gently.

"No, he's not. We'll find something else. Maybe the other witnesses will push this through."

"They WON'T!" She brushes off his touch impatiently. "You know that and I know that, Elliot! This guy's going to walk and that asshole in there just sold his son for his own ego!" Her hands begin to shake. "I could kill that fucking… " In frustration she stomps back into the hallway - and almost collides with Andretti, passing by with O'Connor. Stepping back the tall handsome man begins to apologize, until he sees who it is, and then his mouth sets itself in a solid line. He turns to O'Connor.

"I don't want to see her."

The lawyer lifts a hand to beckon the officers on guard duty, but without a glance in his direction Olivia fixes her glare on Andretti. "Why, Colin?!"

"Stay away from me." He can't quite look her in the eyes. Stepping a little closer she shakes her head.

"He's going to walk out of here, Colin, and he's going to keep hurting your little boy. I assume that's what you wanted."

Rather than flinch at the acidic tone of her voice he snaps and surges forward, his face pushed within a foot of hers. At her side Elliot steps forward and takes his arm, but he yanks it from the bigger man's grip, still glaring at her. "What I wanted? What I WANTED? Because of you I get phone calls in the night telling me what they're going to do to Daniel if I talk! I have a choice between my boy being fucked and him being killed, thanks to you! Aren't statements supposed to be confidential? Don't you people give a shit about that?"

With the approaching officers blocked from view by Olivia's body, it is only Elliot who sees Andretti's fist shoot out. It connects with the female detective's nose and snaps her head backwards before she surges forward and grabs him by his shirt violently. Trying to push her back Andretti loses his balance and they fall over backwards, Olivia on top of him as he tries to keep her shaking hands away form his throat wildly. Between Elliot and Mark O'Connor the two men finally manage to separate them; Stabler holding Olivia none too gently by her shoulders and the back of her shirt, and Mark with restraining hands on Andretti's chest. The witness's chest is heaving and he glares malevolently at the detective, whose dark eyes are fixed on him with something surpassing hate in them.

"This won't be good for the case, detective." At the smug tone in Mark O'Connor's voice Olivia has to be restrained forcibly by her partner. Pulling her back Elliot bellows at her.

"Liv! Liv! Stop it!" He shakes her for good measure. ""C'mon! Take it easy!"

"What the hell is going on here?!" Turning around, the first thing Elliot sees is the camera and the man behind it, grinning like the Cheshire cat. The second thing he sees is the blonde ADA, as livid as she's ever been, flanked by three officers. "Elliot?" Her tone is curt.

"He hit first." The tall detective winces, first at his juvenile words and then at the belligerence of his tone. Olivia is still glaring at Andretti and with a sharp motion he pulls her around to look at Alex Cabot.

The ADA's blue eyes flicker almost unnoticeably to the line of blood running down Olivia's upper lip before she clenches her jaw and walks past them towards the elevator. "Detectives." It is clearly a summoning. Stabler follows behind her, his hand tightening almost painfully on Olivia's arm when she pulls back, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on Colin Andretti, and before she gives in she spits a few words at the man, so softly that Elliot has no idea what she's just said.

When the doors close in front of them Alex turns around and faces Olivia, her blue eyes incredulous. "Do you realize what the hell you just did out there? Assaulting a witness … " she shakes her head, "What the fuck was going through your head, Benson?!" The curse sounds rough and unseemly coming from her lips

Olivia bites down hard, the muscles at her temples shifting before she speaks. Her mouth is twisted into a barely controlled sneer. "He lied. That asshole Rogan is going to walk because he LIED!"

"No." Alex is now almost as worked up as Olivia, and Elliot steps between them surreptitiously. For whose benefit he's not sure at the moment. "We could still have put him away, Olivia, before you attacked the witness! I could have had that fucking statement enforced - except now, his yells of police brutality are suddenly holding water! Who's going to pick your side over a coerced civilian's after they see you beating the tar out of him on the news, Benson?! WHO?" She is about to say something else and bites it back, inclining her head to one side to try to regain control of herself.

Olivia is not doing the same thing. "He hit ME!" Her dark eyes spit fire. "HE HIT ME. Elliot saw it."

"Regardless." Alex is suddenly cool and that's almost worse than the loss of temper. "You shouldn't have hit back. This case just went to hell in a hand basket." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a neatly folded handkerchief which she holds out to Olivia. "For god's sake, clean yourself up."

Snatching the material from her hand the detective presses it to her bleeding nose roughly. Her hand is shaking, and her voice has slipped from strident to cutting. "When he left us he was still saying what we wanted him to. Isn't it your job to get the right statement on the stand, councilor? Isn't it your damned job? Did you fuck it up in the middle?! But I forget - you don't care. You're just used to playing all the sides, is that right?"

"I'm going to attribute that idiotic comment to your emotional state, detective." Glaring at Olivia icily Alex nods curtly. "When Captain Cragen hears about this, he'll probably have you suspended. And if he doesn't, I certainly will give it a try." The elevator doors open as if on cue and she walks out, her posture stiff and wounded.

Olivia leans back against the wooden panel and closes her eyes. With a quick glance at his partner Elliot sprints up behind Alex and touches her shoulder lightly. "Alex, listen… "

"Don't, Elliot. I've had enough today."

He persists. "Alex, listen. Please. That guy did hit first." When she opens her mouth he hurries on. "I know. I know. She shouldn't have hit back, but it was self-defense. She just got a little … carried away, okay?" He spreads his hands wide, helplessly. "This thing's hit her hard, Alex. It's not an excuse, but you can see when you look at her. Christ, Alex, she looks like the walking dead. It's grinding her down!"

When she turns to him he finds himself thinking that he has rarely, if ever, seen the blonde ADA looking so frail and tired. She purses her lips. "Elliot, I do know. That's why she shouldn't have been here in the first place! Look," she glances away, "if it was self-defense the camera will have caught it. It couldn't do Olivia harm to stay at home for a few days and rest while the investigation wraps up. In that state, she's safer somewhere else."

She doesn't know the big man all well enough, but she doesn't have to, to understand the guarded look which flashes into his eyes. "The least you could have done was to give her the benefit of the doubt, Alex. They're going to crucify her. It's the least you could have done."

Turning his back on her he walks back to the elevator where Olivia Benson is standing motionlessly, her head tilted back against the wall. Speaking to her quietly he leads her out of Alex's sight.

"You shouldn't have been anywhere near him!" Cragen's voice was so loud and frustrated that several detectives looked up in the adjoining office, their expressions sympathetic. "You should have walked away, Liv! Now I've got no choice but to suspend you until we can run an investigation. Damn it." Eyeing Olivia with furious eyes he inclined his head at the door sharply. "Go home, Liv. Get some rest. Get your act together. We'll sort this shit out." Wordlessly she gets to her feet. "And Liv? I think you owe Alex Cabot an apology. She had nothing to do with it." Without a reply she walks out.

It is two days later when Olivia approaches the front door of Alex Cabot's apartment building guardedly. She is talking to herself silently, encouraging herself to do something she does not want to do, but that she knows is right. She notes the blue van standing on the curb with a critical eye, frowning at an odd thought niggling in the back of her mind before she flashes her badge at the doorman, smiling slightly as he opens the door for her. It is still closing behind her when her glance falls on the closing of the elevator doors and the four men standing inside it, their coats bizarrely similar as they watch her emotionlessly. There's a moment of pure silence in Olivia's ears, an instinct that crackles somewhere in her before she curses and surges forward towards the staircase, climbing the stairs two at a time. On the first floor, and the second floor, and the third, she ducks into the corridor to press the elevator call button, hoping to slow them down somewhat as she hurtles towards her goal. On the fifth floor, her breath escaping in harsh gasps, she slips her phone from her pocket and holds in the emergency speed dial. Elliot picks up after one ring.

"Liv? What's up?"

"I'm at Alex's place, Elliot. Four guys. Something's wrong. Get here." Cutting off his tinny voice she slips the phone into her leather jacket's pocket and unclips the holster. Draws her pistol. The corridor twists at the front and she takes the corner roughly, aware of time running out.

Alex is at her door, a bag of groceries at her feet as she's gripping her keys.

"Alex!"

The ADA turns and begins "Olivia, I don't want to he … " but her voice peters off as she notices the firearm and the detective's determined approach.

The elevator dings.

"Get down. Unlock the door." Olivia puts a hand on the dazed ADA's shoulder and pushes her down for emphasis, then turns around to shield the blonde's body with hers. "Get in and bar the door."

Alex's hand is shaking so badly - she has no idea what's happening and she's suddenly petrified. She cannot get the key into the lock and almost drops it when the first shot rings out.

Seeing the first man's arm appear around the corner Olivia takes careful aim. "Freeze! Police!" and for a moment he does, but then his arm moves in a motion she knows all too well. Before he can draw his gun a bullet thumps into his upper chest, spinning him backwards into the man close behind him. Swearing, his partner pushes him to the side and pulls his own pistol from its holster under his arm. Leaning forward he gives a thought to peering around the corner, but the situation requires force, not finesse. Looking around he motions to his two associates, and without a word they burst into the hallway, their guns blazing.

Expecting the action, but with no alternative, Olivia fires immediately, hitting one of the large men in the leg, and another in the arm. Then something collides with her chest in a blunt punch and pushes her backwards involuntarily. She knows she's been hit, but there's no pain yet, just a feeling of dullness near her upper right shoulder. Her gun's fallen and she knows she's going to fall too, but she can't do anything to stop herself. Her body catapults backwards with the force, slamming Alex Cabot into the door before they both sprawl to the floor, the blonde woman underneath her. In shock, Alex tries to figure out what has just happened - she doesn't know whether she should get up and try the key again, whether she should call for help, or whether she should stay put and wait. Panic is pushing her breath into short sharp gasps. Unaware of what has happened she pushes a little at the body covering hers.

Two of the three men approach the fallen women cautiously. The third is trying to stop the blood pouring from his thigh with muffled curses. The man in front nudges at the dark detective with the toe of his boot.

"Hey."

He is being careful, and so it is not necessarily unexpected when she whirls around and makes a grab for his leg. Drawing it back he kicks her in the side, hard, and then another time. Watching her curl in on herself he nods with cordial pleasure. "Let's get her off the other one." When Olivia puts up faint resistance he kicks her once more, and then, together with the other man, lifts her off Alex's body roughly, pushing her to one side where she curls up painfully.

"Alexandra Cabot?"

His Scottish accent is thick and menacing. Alex doesn't answer, but the sudden jerk of her head and the shock in her blue eyes give the answer clearly.

"Okay." Reaching down to the cringing woman he slips a hand under her elbow and yanks her up. "Come on, lass. Don't make it difficult." When he passes Olivia he sticks out his chin and speaks to the other men. "Let's take this one too. We have uses for cops."

With grim smiles they reach down and haul the detective to her feet.

Her entry into the back of the van is less than graceful. The two goons shove her forward as casually as though she were a bag of potatoes. Twisting to prevent herself from falling on her injured side she grunts unhappily as her bruised body hits the hard floor solidly. The third man is more careful, propelling Alex Cabot into the back with a supporting, yet firm hand at the small of her back. Dazedly the blonde creeps into the space and sits down, her eyes large as she stares at Olivia. The doors close behind them and with a groan the detective pushes herself up to a sitting position. Cradling her limp useless arm against her stomach she begins to feel at the roof and the walls around them before shaking her head. The lurch of the van as it begins to move rocks them both.

Wincing slightly, Olivia shrugs off her leather jacket with acute discomfort and tugs at her black v-neck sweater with her left hand, trying to lift it. "Alex?"

The blonde looks at her with shocked eyes.

"Hey, Alex." Abandoning the sweater Olivia wraps her hand around the pointed chin and shakes the beautiful face slightly. "I need you to snap out of it, Alex. I need your help here. Alex?"

Finally the ADA's eyes blink and she pulls her face away from Olivia's hand. "Who are these guys, Olivia?"

"At this stage they're either Rogan's or Andretti's. I don't know which." Reaching down Olivia tugs again at the sweater, her teeth clamped together. Though it is dark in the back of the van, there is just enough light coming in from the window at the front for Alex to see the detective's motions.

"What are you doing?"

"I've got to get this sweater off." Groaning, she shifts a little. "I need to slow down the bleeding."

"What?" The old Alex is back, feisty and indignant. "Where were you hit?"

"Chest. Shoulder. Look, Alex, can you help me get this thing off, please - I need to stop the bleeding now and I'm having trouble… "

"Hold on." Shifting closer Alex arranges her long legs around Olivia awkwardly and extends her hands a little uncertainly. She has to help the detective slip her left arm out first, and then the clumsy right arm. In the darkness the blood on Olivia's white undershirt looks like a growing ink stain. Before she can speak, the van takes a corner roughly and they are thrown sideways. Shooting out her arms instinctively to prevent herself from careening into the wall Olivia gasps gutturally as the agony of the impact drives through her arm and shoulder and straight into her wounded chest, collapsing her elbows under her and sending her to the floor roughly. It is as if the air has been driven from her lungs, and she is still battling to breathe when Alex's hands find their way onto her back gently. They're warm.

"Olivia, move over here."

She is sitting with her back propped against the back wall and gently guides the detective until she is sitting between Alex's long extended legs.

"Okay." Alex's hands hover just above the square shoulders. "Liv, I think we should use your shirt, rather than the sweater. You're going to get cold, and the cotton will probably absorb better than wool."

The use of her nickname almost, but not quite, slips by Olivia. "Good thinking." She reaches down to grasp the hem of her shirt, moving her hand away quickly when it brushes over Alex's. With a quick motion the ADA guides the shirt over her head, trying not to jar her too much, and then she hands it over to Olivia with an unsure shrug. Taking the white material the detective bunches it in her left hand and presses it firmly against the wound, groaning at the sudden fire that spreads along her chest. The long legs flanking her shift uncomfortably.

"How are you doing?"

Olivia bites off a sardonic retort. "I've been better. If I can just get the bleeding under control, things should be fine." For a while.

"Okay." The van takes another turn, but as the dark woman feels herself tipping over unavoidably, a pair of long arms wrap around her and pull her back, holding her against the body behind her until the motion of the van stabilizes again. At these close quarters she can hear Alex's breath in her ear - hitching slightly - and also oddly, feel her heartbeat - erratic and speeding. The blonde is afraid. There's nothing Olivia would like to do more than to say something soothing, but a chill is running down her own body and she's not about to lie. Not to Alex. Instead she settles for something to distract her.

"I'm sorry about what I said at the courthouse, Alex. It was irrational and offensive and I hope you know I didn't mean any of it. "

There's either a muffled chuckle or a strong exhalation - she's not sure which. Then the arms around her loosen awkwardly. "It's all right, Olivia. I know you didn't." She shifts a little, and there is silence. Sensing something else to be said the detective stays quiet, and a minute later Alex does speak again. "I was angry with you. But I should have been on your side."

"It's okay. I know you do your best." Lifting the bunched shirt from her upper chest Olivia folds it as best she can and then presses the wet square of material against the wound again. "Alex, can you help me put my sweater back on? I don't want to be sitting here in my underwear when the Sopranos open that door."

"Sure." Between them they manage to slip the sweater over her head and shoulders, Olivia slipping her left hand down into the v-neck to position the cloth roughly over the bleeding injury. It's almost soaked through by now, but she has little choice. She considers slipping on her jacket as well, but realizes soon enough that the weight of the leather over her shoulders will cause unmanageable pain. Alex's hands are plucking at her shirt mindlessly, and, realizing that it is an uncontrolled stress reaction, Olivia lets her be. Only once, when the hands brush over ribs she thinks might be cracked or broken, does she shift away a little. Immediately Alex pulls back.

"Sorry."

"It's okay." Olivia's words die in the loud sound of the van's back doors opening. They stopped and she didn't even notice. A gun is leveled on them by one of the goons, a lanky lean one, as the other two reach in.

"Now don't fight this."

Elliot, Fin and Munch bundle into the foyer of Alex's building, badges at the ready and guns drawn. In one corner the doorman is lying folded up, looking more peacefully asleep than anything else, but the gunshot wound to his head tells a different story. Dropping down to his haunches Munch checks for a pulse.

"Damn."

Fin flips open his phone and Elliot steps forward to the stairwell, dodging in cautiously to look up. "Think they're still here?"

"Sure, Elliot, they're having a tea party." Munch raises his eyebrows dryly. They go up the floors one by one, checking the hallways, but when they get to floor five they already know the men are long gone.

Alex's door is locked. A bag of groceries is sitting forlornly to one side, and there are fresh scratch marks on the paint around the lock where a key may have slipped. Crouching, Stabler puts out a hand and almost touches the small pool of blood congealing on the floor. His face is pale. Kindly, Fin puts a hand on his shoulder.

"C'mon, Elliot. Backup's on the way. We'll find them."

Nobody knows anything. Nobody's seen anything.

Alex's neighbor heard the gunshots, and with the practical self-preservation of a city dweller locked her door and phoned 911. She doesn't know what happened, doesn't want to know anything beyond that she's not in any danger.

Elliot's hands are twitching at his sides.

The detectives are so intent on their discussion that they don't even notice the cameraman and the boom swinging above their heads any more. Cragen is perched on the corner of a desk, his face serious.

"So this would be Rogan, right?"

Elliot takes the pencil he's been chewing on out of his mouth. "Actually, cap, I was thinking it might also be Andretti."

"Okay." Cragen thinks for a moment. "Search warrants. We've got probably cause, at the least. Elliot, I want you to stay here."

The big detective rises. "Come on, cap, you know I need to …. "

"… be there. I know. But we have nothing beyond one little gap, and if I let you loose in there you might knock some heads together. Let Munch and Fin take it, okay?"

Elliot sinks down into his seat, his square face a mask of control. "Fine."

"Okay." Cragen nods at Fin. "Take Rogan's people first. The other one is a long shot. I want to … "

"Excuse me." It's Trevor Weenan, the short director, and he's directly behind Cragen. Turning around the captain graces him with a long cold glance.

"We're busy, mister Weenan."

"I might be able to help you."

Frowning, Munch shakes his head. "It's mine shafts where they send canaries in first to die, Trevor. We'll survive on this one without you."

"I can tell you who took the detective."

The sentence has the power of stopping them all in their tracks. Four heads look up as one, and it is Elliot who speaks first. "Weenan, if you're yanking my chain I swear to God I'm going to take that boom and jam it up your … "

The small man holds up his hands in a placatory motion. "I'm not. I had detective Benson followed. Jackson over there… " he points to a cameraman sitting in a corner, "… should have the footage you'd need."

"What the fuck were you doing following Liv around when she was off duty?" Elliot's anger is tangible, and when Weenan looks around he can see it mirrored in the stances of the other men. Shrugging helplessly he tries a sheepish smile.

"She was the story, man. You know it. We wanted a private angle for the disgraced officer…. " The response to these words tells him that he's moving in the wrong direction, and so he changes tack with very little grace. "Look. That's irrelevant. Let's get the tape."

Cragen takes him lightly by the arm. "Weenan, if this turns out to be anything but helpful I'm locking you in an interrogation room with detective Stabler. You've been warned."

In the footage the number plate is perfectly clear. Jackson had only taped Olivia going into the building and then given up on her for the evening. But in that one sweeping shot the dark van is starkly visible.

Running a check shows the van to be registered to one Mr Jason O'Meara. Grabbing their things the detectives tear out of the station.

Olivia tries to keep an eye on where they're taking Alex, but the rough hands under her arms are hurting her so much that she's barely able to keep from passing out. It is with enormous gratification that she finds herself being dragged into a large sporadically lit room in what appears to be an empty warehouse, and sees Alex right in front of her being tied to a chair. When the men begin to do the same to her she twists once, but a hand curled over her shoulder on the injured side keeps her down and unable to move. Her hands are tied behind her tightly, the position sending intense pain through her shoulders when she tries to move. Looking around she notices the pools of shadow between the men, the windows up high showing dark sky, the silence around them. Now they might be in trouble.

The one man, she imagines he is the ringleader, steps up to Alex and bends down to hold his narrow face level to hers. "You let that asshole Rogan go."

Okay, not Rogan's men. Damn. Olivia takes a deep breath, wincing slightly at the burning in her ribcage, and then yells as roughly as she can. "Hey, you prick! Leave her alone!"

One of the others - she's been keeping an eye on the two of them, moving at the perimeter of her vision - steps closer and delivers a vicious blow to her midriff. "Shut up, cop," The pain sends tears to her eyes and as she's fighting to take a breath she hears Alex at the edge of her consciousness.

"Stop! Don't hurt her!"

"How charitable of you." The words roll roundly in his Scottish accent. "I just wish you were so concerned about everybody else."

"What do you want?" Her normally smooth low voice is faint and breathless, her eyes large. Chuckling, he straightens up and tucks her blonde hair over her shoulder pleasantly.

"I want you to tell me why you'd let a scumbag like Rogan off."

"I didn't let him off!"

"As good as." The lean man sniffs and raises an eyebrow. "You let that asshole Andretti walk out like that? He signed a piece of paper admitting to what was happening, and you let him walk out? Shame, councillor. Do you need lessons in law, or do you need lessons in recognizing the villains?"

"Hey! It wasn't her fault! Back off!" For her defense Olivia gets another fist to the midsection, and this time she gasps for air painfully, her face contorting. She can feel her strength starting to seep away now. Watching her Alex sobs once, softly. The lean man nods thoughtfully.

"It's as much her fault as anybody's, detective."

"Rogan's not off yet." To her credit Alex is trying to keep her voice level and controlled. "There're still other witnesses to come. You should trust the law to take care of this."

"Trust the law to take care of this? Trust the law?" He raises his eyebrows. "You know, miss Cabot, we did want to trust the law in this. We could have taken Rogan out where he stood, and instead we thought revenge would be so much sweeter if he went to jail. We know what they do with kiddie molesters there, right? And it should have been as simple as that, too. And then this one fuck walks out on you and you don't do a thing about it and now suddenly we have to ascertain who's on the right side!"

Alex shoots a glance over at Olivia. The detective's eyes are half-closed and she is straining weakly against the ropes.

"Let her go. Please."

The tall man looks over at the dark woman. "Her? Oh, no, councillor. We have plans." Straightening up, he motions to the two other men, who disappear into the shadows for a moment. When they return they are dragging a chair behind them. There is a man on it, tied as the two women are, and as he's dragged into the same pool of light as Olivia Benson he looks around wildly, his eyes frantic above the silver tape covering his mouth. Alex gasps.

The tall man laughs without humour. "Miss Cabot, detective - I think you know Father Jeremy Rogan?"

The address for Jason O'Meara is a neat uninteresting brownstone building filled with offices. On the third floor they are met with an unassuming wooden brown door with a porthole in the centre. Beyond it a young brunette receptionist sits filing her nails with great ardor. She does not seem terribly surprised at the appearance of three large men hefting badges in front of her table - in fact, she appears to be flirting with Fin. Uncharacteristically, the attention drives him to silence.

Elliot taps his fingers impatiently on the table in front of her. "We need to see Jason O'Meara. Now."

"He's not in." She's frustratingly inscrutable. "Can I take a message?"

"If you can't, then your entire education was wasted." Munch puts on his tough face. "Where is he?"

"I'm not really at liberty to say, but… " she leans closer to Fin conspiratorially, "just for you - Jason has five warehouses downtown. I'll just jot down the address for you here…" she does so, "… and my number on the back."

Fin clears his throat. "What's this O'Meara do?"

"Oh, he's a businessman. Lots of things. Packaging, transport, that kind of thing. And charity in his spare time. Feeding program for the church. He's a good guy."

Elliot narrows his eyes. "Which church is this?"

Tapping at her teeth with a pencil the girl flutters her eyelashes. "Saint Michael's. Is that right?"

"Very right." The men share a glance. It's Father Jeremy Rogan's parish. Nodding their thanks at the girl they leave the office and make for the factories.

Rogan blinks fuzzily against the light shining in his eyes, then darts his gaze between the tall man and ADA Alex Cabot in front of him, tied to her chair. When he finally looks to his right and spots detective Olivia Benson slouched on another chair ten feet away, her dark head down, panic shows cleanly in his eyes. There is a small cut above his bushy grey eyebrows, and his thick grey hair is in disarray. Strutting over, the tall man wraps his fingers through it and pulls up Rogan's head so that his face is clearly visible to Alex.

"See this, Cabot? This is the wrong side of the fence." Pushing the grey man's head forward harshly he steps between the three captives and pulls a pistol from the waistband under his jacket. At the sight of the firearm Alex's breath becomes jagged and sharp, and Rogan moans fearfully and loudly under the silver tape. Lifting her head Olivia fixes her eyes helplessly on the gun.

The tall man is casually conversational as he checks the barrel and the magazine. "See, you think you know what evil means. You always think you do, until you meet people who look it in the eyes and don't think about it twice. Isn't that right, Miss Cabot? If the circumstances were different you'd be on the other side of the fight, so it doesn't really matter to you, does it?"

"Of course it matters to me." Her expression is pleading. "Please, don't hurt anybody."

"See what I mean?" He pushes out a bark of laughter. "Earlier it was just her you didn't want me to hurt. Now, suddenly, it's everybody? You're so fickle it makes me sick."

"You're wrong!" Olivia has been quiet for so long that they've all just about forgotten about her, and it is with some surprise that all heads swivel in her direction. "You're wrong." She repeats it for emphasis. "Don't do this. You're wrong."

"I thought we'd shut her up." The tall man motions to one of his friends. "Tape her mouth, will you?"

When Olivia's mouth is securely covered with a broad strip of silver tape he turns his back on her casually and addresses Alex again. "She thinks I'm wrong. I wonder." Slowly he walks forward, until he is standing between Rogan and Olivia Benson. Lifting the barrel he points it at Olivia's head. "How about it?"

"NO!" Alex strains forward, her eyes filling with tears. Olivia does not have to turn her head to know what is happening. Taking a shallow breath she closes her eyes and waits. Her face is pale. The lanky lean man watches her for a moment, his face expressionless, before he turns around and points the gun at Rogan's head. The priest's eyes swivel around to meet his and he begins to snivel, big sobs smothered by the constriction across his face. Grinning just a little the tall man cocks his head at Alex.

"And now?"

Helplessly she shakes her head. "Don't."

"See, I'm giving you a choice. A chance to redeem yourself." He actually looks pleased with himself. "I'm going to shoot somebody here today, councilor, and I'm giving you the choice."

Alex is sobbing. "Don't do this to me! Why are you doing this to me?!"

He ignores her outburst. "Will it be him?" Pistol towards Rogan. "Or will it be her?" Swinging around towards Olivia. "It's an easy choice, I should think, with her being a pal and all. Come on, Cabot, I've made it easier than I should have. Just pick one."

Tears are making their way down Alex's pale cheeks towards her collar. Her eyes flicker from Rogan to Olivia to the tall man and his gloating expression. "Please don't make me."

His voice is suddenly sharp as the crack of a whip. "If you don't choose I shoot them both. That's it. Now TELL ME!" She can see the barrel beginning to shake and perspiration running down his temples. When he swings around to Olivia her heart feels as though it's stopping.

"No…"

"You're taking too long." The sneer on his face is malevolent. "I think I'll just… " and as he begins to tighten his finger she screams.

"NO! Not Olivia!"

Stopping, he peers over his shoulder at her. "Not Olivia?" Turning slowly he points the weapon at Rogan, who is whimpering. The smell of urine is hanging in the air. "What about him?"

Defeated, Alex drops her head down to her chest. When she speaks her voice is barely a whisper. "Just not Olivia."

The sound of the gunshot jerks her so hard that she almost topples sideways off her chair. In front of her Rogan is lying on his side, his eyes large and panicked and lifeless, a pool of blood forming beneath his head. Olivia has her head turned towards the scene, though her eyes are closed and tears are running down her face.

"Now then." The lean man prods the dead priest with one foot. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Oh, you'll remember it forever. Keep you on the straight and narrow, it will." And then he turns and points his gun at Olivia. "You made the right choice, councilor. Good on you. But I'm afraid I can't let her leave either. I only hope that her memory can keep you on the straight and narrow… "

And then the second gunshot sounds, and it seems like forever before he falls forward, onto his knees, and drops the gun in wretched surprise. Stepping out of the doorway Elliot Stabler trains his gun on the remaining two men.

"Police! Get down on the ground!"

Continued...

K. Alexander's Scrolls
Main Page

~ Unbreakable ~
by K. Alexander

For the DISCLAIMER and WARNING please check part one.

COMMENTS Here we go. Buckle your seatbelt. Find me at kalexy@webmail.co.za

Part 2

Alex is wrapped in a warm grey blanket with a paper cup of hot black coffee wrapped in her hands. Her pupils are still slightly too dilated, even though she has been injected with something for the shock and is already struggling to stay upright. Behind her Stabler is surreptitiously supporting her as she gives her statement, slowly and painstakingly, to Munch. Occasionally her glance slips down the hall, to where she knows Olivia has been in the operating room for an hour already. When Elliot squeezes her shoulder in support she doesn't respond. Wrapping it up Munch shoots a questioning look at Elliot before he clasps Alex's arms gently for a moment. When he leaves she watches him without comment.

Moving around, Elliot sits down on the edge of the bed with her. "Alex, she'll be fine. There was a lot of bleeding, but they've got it under control now. A few weeks and she'll be good as new. Alex?"

Lifting the cup to her mouth she sips slowly at the hot liquid, barely noticing as it scalds her tongue, before she replies. "I'm okay, Elliot."

"Is there anyone I can call for you?" He persists.

"No. No-one." Suddenly she hands over the cup of coffee, and he winces at the heat in his bare palms. "If you can take this, I think I need to sleep."

"Okay." Stepping back he watches as she curls up, her back to him, and pulls the grey blanket over her shoulder. She looks so vulnerable, and he knows that Olivia would have wanted him to stay with her, but at this moment he can't bear intruding. Softly he walks out into the hallway where Cragen is standing, and when the captain turns he offers a grim smile.

"How is she?"

"She's Alex Cabot, cap. Hurting like anything and not letting anybody in. Any news on Olivia?"

"Yeah. They just moved her to the ICU. She's still out, but you know what she's going to be like, Stabler." He grins slightly. "Hurting like anything and not admitting one bit of it."

"They're a perfect match, these two," Elliot comments wryly before he glances down at the coffee in his hand. "I'm getting. You want some?"

"No." Cragen looks down the hallway, and then back at Elliot. "I've got to go sort out that goddamned mess, Elliot. I've got dead priests and kidnapped ADAs and a case without a perp and a director in the wrong place at the right time. You stay here, and let me know when Olivia wakes up, okay?"

"Cap?" Elliot looks a little sheepish. "What about Alex?"

"She's in shock, Stabler. Let the doctors tell you what to do. Beyond that, she'll decide for herself. She always does."

Through a fog Olivia can hear her name being called. In irritation she tries to open her eyes, but they seem glued together. Her head feels as though it's been stuffed with cotton wool. She tries once more to open her eyes, and when the result is still the same she shifts slightly. The resulting pain immediately forces a deep groan from her. Warm hands spread over her, holding her down gently, and as much as she wants to fight she can't. With a dizzying twirl her mind spins back to darkness.

"Olivia?... Liv? … Olivia!"

"Don't shout." It's weak, but it's there. This time she manages to open her eyes, to be greeted by the sight of Elliot's big smile. "What are you so happy about?"

Her voice is so scratchy he only catches every second word, but still he knows exactly what she's saying. Grinning, he shrugs. "Hey, it just feels good to see your eyes open for a change. You've been lying down on the job for a while. Need to stop wasting time, Benson."

"I'll try." Shifting, she tries to move up on the bed, but the pain dissuades her fairly quickly. With a muttered "fuck" she slides back down, turning her head slowly to look at her bandaged upper chest.

"It took out a bit of your collarbone."

"Son of a bitch."

Smiling at her tetchy tone he nods. "Yeah. They managed to clear it all, and wrap the broken ribs, but you're going to be booked off for a while, Liv."

"Aren't I suspended, Elliot?" She's scowling slightly.

"Yes you are, Liv," he grins, "but that's not going to stick for long. And when you're free to come back, none of us want to see your sorry ass running around for a while yet."

"Damn." Her drollness is aimed to be amusing and he laughs.

"I bet you were looking forward to it."

Frowning a little she blinks a few times before looking up at him. "Elliot, where's Alex? Is she okay?"

The big man inclines his head to one side. "She's in one of the wards. The doctors have been keeping her for observation these last two days. Quite frankly I just think she's hanging around to keep an eye on you." He looks down uncomfortably. "She was in shock, Liv. Badly. I think it'll do her a world of good to see you awake."

"Mm. Can you do that?" Even as she speaks Liv's eyes are drifting shut of their own accord. Elliot chuckles.

"You sure you're up for it?"

"Sure." And then she nods off.

When she opens her eyes again Alex Cabot is leaning against the doorframe, her face more drawn and pale than usual. At the sight of the detective's awareness the blonde smiles slightly and steps forward, pausing uncertainly just inside the door.

"Olivia?"

"Hey." Her voice is rough from disuse and dryness, but also warm. When she flexes her right hand, snug in its firm sling, the ADA approaches her quietly. With some hesitation she takes Olivia's hand in hers, cautious not to move the limb. Her blue eyes are still.

"How are you feeling?"

"Mmm." The detective grins. "Great. I'm pumped full of morphine. How are you?"

"I'm okay." Those blue eyes lock onto Olivia's with a quiet expression she can't read, a guardedness that draws her forehead into a frown.

"Alex?" She squeezes the blonde's hand to get her attention, even though it's not much of a grip. "Talk to me?"

When the ADA's head drops forward her blonde hair shields her face from Olivia's view. Alex's hand is limp in Olivia's. She shakes her head ever so marginally. "I don't have anything to say, Olivia. I just wanted to know that you're okay. Look…" she withdraws her hand, and immediately Olivia misses the secure warmth, "I have to go. They're signing me out today." When she looks up again her expression is back to normal.

Blinking a little to clear away the weariness threatening to overwhelm her, the detective scowls. "Alex? Don't walk away from me."

"I'll see you later, Liv." With a last long look at the white bandage covering the bleary woman's chest, Alex Cabot walks out of the room.

A day later Tutuola comes to check on her, and in greeting drops the New York Times on her lap casually. A loud groan slips from her chest and he's at her side, instantly apologetic and anxious.

"Jeez, Olivia, I didn't mean to hurt you. You okay?"

Reaching out her left hand casually she pulls the newspaper closer, her worn-out dark eyes twinkling. "Sorry, Fin, it was a joke. I'm yanking your chain. What's in here?"

His brows pull together broodingly. "Not funny, Benson. I'd kick your ass if you weren't in a hospital bed." Leaning forward he taps the front page. Shaking the paper awkwardly with one hand Olivia reads the small fuzzy black letters:

Two arrested for kidnapping of New York Assistant District Attorney

Yesterday two as yet unnamed men were arrested for the kidnapping of Assistant District Attorney Alexandra Cabot and NYPD Detective Olivia Benson. They will also be appearing in court on a charge of assault on Detective Benson.

Skimming through the rest of the paragraph Olivia puts down the paper. "So who were they, Fin?"

Pulling closer a chair he sits at the side of the bed, his dark eyes serious. "The perp who was shot, the one who did Rogan - he's Reilly O' Meara. His brother, Jason, is a businessman who's involved in charity with Saint Michael's. Looks like little bro found out there was more going on with his nephew than singing in the choir."

Olivia shifts a little against the pain. "But why get into trouble over the whole thing with Cabot? Rogan was about to go down, right?"

Ignoring the impulse to make a rude pun Fin shrugs. "There are two factions at work here, Olivia. Seems like O'Meara pushed Andretti forward for questioning, and the big guns behind Rogan pulled Andretti out again. It's a power play, and O'Meara thought he was losing. He might have been, too, if the rumored names behind Rogan are anything to go by. He may even have thought that Cabot was a part of it, if the two runts we have in custody are to be believed. Any case, Rogan's just been found guilty and tried by a bigger court."

Taking one last look at the old grainy black and white picture of Alex on the front page, immaculate in her fitted suit on the steps of the courthouse, Olivia lays down the paper and cocks her head at the dark detective. "And my suspension, Fin? You know anything about that?"

"Look," he shifts to the front of his seat, his eyes on hers, "this ain't official…"

"Of course." Her tone is dry.

"… but I think that'll be sorted soon. Cragen's been shouting at that little Weenan prick the entire morning, and some of that was about you and Andretti. As if it wasn't enough that his …. "

It's at this point that Cragen, Munch and Elliot come through the door with the good news.

After five more days the doctor is ready to discharge her. He lets her into Elliot's charge with a stern warning to take it easy and a bag full of medication. At first, when her partner brings in the wheelchair, she looks at him with that wry you've got to be kidding me expression he knows so well, but when she has taken ten steps and her bandaged chest feels as if it's about to tip her over, and her screaming ribs are making their presence known more than ever, she silently acquiesces and sits down gingerly in the offered seat. Elliot wheels her to the car and helps her into the passenger seat with such considerate attention that even if it's driving her crazy, she can't snap at him. At her apartment he supports her covertly with a hand under her left elbow, and though she will never admit it she actually appreciates his solid presence next to her.

He settles her onto her bed and moves several things to within her reach, including a jug of water - she didn't know she had a jug, even less so how and where he'd actually found it - a glass, and the remote to the television. When he prepares to sink onto the window seat she stops him.

"Elliot, what are you doing?"

"What?" Halfway down he pauses, a comical sight with his butt sticking out. His eyebrows are arched. "Hey, the doctor said you need someone to keep an eye on you. That's me, Liv, unless you have a miniature nurse stashed in your closet."

"Wouldn't you like to know." She shakes her head a little, her motion restricted both by the tight bandage and the uncomfortable pain the action causes. "Elliot, go home."

"No, Liv." Lowering himself onto the cushioned seat he crosses his legs. "Cragen told me to hang around and I'm not about to disobey his orders."

"How noble of you," she comments dryly before reaching out and lifting the glass for a sip of water. Her dark eyes are watching him over the rim of the glass and he knows she's about to be difficult even before she puts it down. "Elliot… "

"Don't Elliot me."

"Elliot." This time it's very clearly exasperated. "I'm tired and sore and I want to go to sleep. Go away."

"Hey, I'm not stopping you." He reaches down for a magazine he must have brought with him - she doesn't have any in her apartment, never has time to read them, or the inclination - and shakes it open randomly, probably more for the effect than the actual page he's open at.

Glaring at him Olivia settles into the pillows, trying to make her aching body as comfortable as she possibly can, before she addresses him again. "Elliot? I'm going to go to sleep now. When I wake up I'll be having to do things like sponge baths and changing of bandages, and I don't want you here for that. Okay?"

He starts to object, but by the serious set of her face he can see that she is not joking. With a sigh he lowers the magazine to his thighs and looks at her questioningly. "Will you be all right by yourself?"

"I always have been, Elliot." She pulls the blanket up to her neck. "Good night. Drop in some time." Soon her even breathing signifies sleep. Frowning, Elliot Stabler closes the magazine and studies the dark hair protruding from the top of the blanket, his face indecisive.

When she wakes up she is disorientated for a moment, expecting the hospital lights overhead. Lying still she looks at the high ceiling, and then turns her head to study the window with the seat below it where she has spent a lot of time quietly in the middle of the night. There is nobody in the seat, no tall man watching her, and only the magazine remains, squarely in the middle of the cushion. From the light outside it seems to be either late afternoon or early morning. Working her left arm out from under the blanket she grasps for the glass of water, bringing it to her mouth with a wince as raising her head slightly unleashes a snapping feeling in her chest. Ah. Pain killers wearing off.

"Elliot?"

No answer. He must have taken her seriously. Good.

She considers getting up and fetching a cool cloth to run over her face - it's hot and she hadn't taken off her jeans and long-sleeved shirt with Elliot in the room. On second thought, imagining the effort to do anything at all right now, she simply pops three pain pills in her mouth and washes them down with water. Then, closing her eyes, she lets sleep take her again. She hasn't slept this much - or this soundly - in the last year.

She wakes up hot and uncomfortable, her chest and shoulder throbbing in time with her heartbeat. Swallowing, she grimaces at the gritty feeling in her throat before reaching for the glass. It's empty. She shifts a little further and tries to lift up the jug, but with uncustomary lack of foresight Elliot's filled it with too much water, and every attempt brings a shiver of ice-cold pain lancing down her upper body. Finally she gives up, lying still for a moment and considering her situation. She could phone Elliot - the phone is right at her side - but then he'd come over and gloat. And she's not used to having things done for her.
The light outside is faint. She has no idea what time it is. Her watch is lying on the table where Elliot put it, but she doesn't feel like stretching to take it. Shaking two more pain pills into her mouth she swallows them dry and settles back onto the bed. Maybe if she could get out of these jeans she'd be more comfortable. With her left hand Olivia unsnaps the waistband and pulls down the zipper, but with only one hand she proves too clumsy to push it down. Sighing at herself in frustration she closes her eyes and slips into a shallow unpleasant sleep.

The gun is aimed at her temple. She can hear the hammer pulling back if she listens carefully. At the last moment the barrel swings around to point at Alex Cabot's beautiful drawn face and the shot sounds.

"No!"

Olivia Benson shoots up, her eyes fluttering, and it takes her a while to realize that she is in her own bed. Her torso is burning unbearably. Lifting her left hand she feels dazedly at the bandages, and then further up to wipe at her clammy face.

"Elliot?"

Somehow she thought he was here.

Alex closes the door behind her and puts the key on the kitchen counter. She got it from Elliot when she asked him whether she should visit Olivia. That, a skew smile and a "You'd better take this - she'll think it's me and not bother to open the door."

She's never been in Olivia's apartment before. It's much as she imagined it would be. The furniture shows a propensity for mostly dark wood, though there are a few mismatched pieces making it clear that Benson is not into collecting. Or coordinating. There are rich red carpets on the floor, the only other sign of a personal preference.

"Olivia?"

She keeps her voice low, worried that the detective might be asleep and trying not to wake her.

"Elliot?"

Alex's face relaxes just a little into a half-smile as she hears the hoarse and irritable voice. Following the sound of Olivia's reply she answers. "No, it's Alex."

"Alex?"

She has found the bedroom and is just on time to see the dark head poke out from above the blankets, and the bleary confusion.

"ADA Alex Cabot, Benson. Remember me?" It feels strange to be teasing Olivia, and especially so when she's not really in a light-hearted mood. Stepping closer she stands at the side of the bed and looks down at the detective's groggy face. Olivia's dark hair is mussed and damp at the temples.

"What are you doing here, Alex?"

"I came to see how you were. If you'd rather I left… "

"No." Shifting under the blanket Olivia tries to get a little more comfortable. "Sit down."

"All right. Thanks." Alex perches on the side of the bed awkwardly. "So how are you, Olivia?"

Still a little sleepily the dark woman answers. "I'm kind of thirsty. Can you get me some water, please?"

"Sure." Getting up Alex moves around and lifts the jug easily to fill the glass, which she then holds out to Olivia. Trying to shift herself up, Olivia grimaces before she takes the offered liquid.

"Thanks."

Alex frowns when the detective's hand brushes over her own. "Olivia?" Clasping one hand over the dark woman's forearm she pauses for a moment before she suddenly shifts her hand up and rests it gently against Olivia's forehead. "Why are you so hot?"

"What a question." It's accompanied by a skew smile. "Though I'm absolutely flattered." She shifts her head from Alex's hand and takes a small sip of water. "It's warm in here."

"Olivia, it's not." The blue eyes are stern and concerned above the rim of her glasses, and for a moment the detective has an odd impulse to run a thumb over Alex's ever-so-serious bottom lip. "You're too warm. Have you been taking your antibiotics?"

Turning her head to the side Olivia tries to look at the bottles of pills, but has some trouble focusing on the closer ones. "I don't know," she finally admits, "I took something. I'm not sure."

"Okay." The ADA looks down at her musingly before she flips open her phone and steps out of the room. By the sounds of her conversation she is talking to someone at the hospital, and the detective part of Olivia's nature wants to listen in, hear what she's saying, but the physical part is weak and shaky and not at all willing to concentrate. When Alex comes back in Olivia is looking at the window. Perching again on the very edge of the bed the blonde touches the injured woman's cheek softly. "Olivia?" She is discomfited by touching the detective intimately like this, but above the blanket the only part of Olivia's body on offer is the strapped and bandaged shoulder and chest, and she can't venture below the blanket for fear of accidentally jarring the broken ribs.

At her touch the detective turns her head and fixes dark brown eyes on hers. "What time is it?"

For just a second Alex is unwilling to look away. Those eyes have been in her dreams lately, focusing on her above a silver strip of tape, and she consciously has to now push the sudden feeling of rising panic away. Lifting her hand she makes a show of checking her watch. "It's twenty past six, Liv. Why? Does it matter?"

"No. I just can't tell with the light. That's the third time."

"What?"

"That's the third time. That you've called me Liv."

"Oh." Alex looks down. "I'm sorry. I hadn't noticed. If you don't like it I'll stop."

"I like it."

Olivia's eyes are still caught up in her own and she is finding it harder and harder to maintain her composure. Standing up too quickly she walks around the bed and lifts the prescriptions one by one, reading the labels and shaking several pills from two of the bottles. "Here - you were supposed to be taking these."

After the detective complies Alex puts the glass back on the side table and eyes the bandage with trepidation. "I think we're going to have to change that, Olivia."

"Okay." With some assistance from Alex Olivia painfully gets into a sitting position, but before she can continue the detective puts a hand on her arm. Olivia's expression is unusually self-conscious. "Alex, I hate to ask… but can you help me get these jeans off? I think I have creases in my legs by now."

"Sure." Pulling down the blankets the ADA helps Olivia ease the pants down her legs, certain that her face is more flushed than she would like it to be. Folding them neatly she puts them on the nearest chair and turns to see a slightly grinning detective. "What?"

"I should have guessed you'd be the type to fold jeans." Reaching up with her left hand Olivia wipes her eyes tiredly. "Ugh."

Between them they manage to remove the sling and the bandages with the least amount of jarring possible, and Alex takes great care not to look at the puckered and sewn-together patch of flesh as she dabs at it with the antiseptic before putting on a clean patch of gauze and wrapping it up carefully. Moving the arm back into the sling proves to be more of a challenge, and when she is finished Olivia is drawn and pale. With a sigh the detective settles back into the pillows and takes a deep breath to settle her suddenly queasy stomach.

"Thanks, Alex."

"No problem." Her voice is so smooth and soothing that Olivia involuntarily closes her eyes. She's gone to court just to hear this voice once or twice, knowing that it'd quieten her after a hard day, but that is something she'll never admit.

Seeing the detective's eyes flutter closed Alex gets up quietly, pausing when Olivia's eyes open again and focus on hers.

"Will you be okay, Liv?"

The blonde looks so weary and fragile and vulnerable, trying to hide it all at once, and Olivia feels as if her heart is being torn in a million different directions. On the one hand she wants to say no, just so that this woman stays close enough for her to protect. On the other, she knows she will be fine, and she knows that Alex needs some rest, and that she shouldn't be monopolizing her time for no reason at all except one she's not willing to voice.

"Of course, Alex. Thanks for the help, though."

"It was my pleasure." Alex smiles at her, a half-hearted incident. "Take care of yourself."

When she locks the door behind her she leans against it for a moment and exhales shakily before she goes downstairs and hails a taxi.

Upstairs Olivia is studying the ceiling, her thoughts a thousand miles away.

It is a week later when Alex stands at the same door, smoothing her hands over her thighs in an unusually tense motion before she knocks. She's decided not to let herself in today, aware of the fact that Olivia is moving around by now, highly irritable and itching to get out of her apartment. It's half a minute before Olivia's voice sounds inside.

"Coming!"

The door opens slightly and brown eyes peer out guardedly before she smiles. "Alex. Hi." The door is unlatched from inside with a slick metallic sound. "Come in."

The ADA stands next to the kitchen counter, her blue eyes taking in the bandage showing beneath the button-down shirt and the disheveled wet hair, and at the latter the detective's eyes crinkle a little. Lifting her left hand she tries to wipe down the mussed brown strands in a charmingly self-conscious motion. "I know. I was just drying it."

Even as she does so she's taking in Alex's appearance capably. The ADA is not sleeping, of that much she's sure. Good make-up skills have taken care of any possible dark circles under those blue eyes, but her face is pallid and the set of her shoulders tired.

"Do you need any help?"

Startled in her observation Olivia frowns. "What?"

"Help." Alex patiently repeats herself. "It must be rather hard to dry your hair with just one arm."

"Oh. That." Olivia shakes her head. "No, don't worry, I'll manage. You can make yourself some coffee in the meantime if you'd like. Everything's on the counter and there're cups in the cupboard above the kettle. Okay?"

"Sure you don't need help?"

"Absolutely. Make yourself comfortable." Olivia disappears into the bathroom.

Turning around, Alex puts her handbag on the counter and leans against it for a moment, the lack of sleep catching up with her until she pushes herself away from the surface with determination and puts on the kettle, making herself a strong cup of black coffee. It gives her headaches, but she needs the jolt. It also keeps her up a large portion of the night, but that's not something she sees as negative at the moment.

When Olivia returns ten minutes later - however much she protests, it hurts everywhere to hold up her arm like that for a prolonged period of time - Alex is in a corner of her leather sofa, the blonde head nodding to one side in almost-sleep and the cup of coffee half empty and lolling at a precarious angle. Her long legs are stretched out in front of her and her blue skirt is high up on her thighs. Moving forward quietly Olivia reaches out and cautiously lifts the cup from between those long elegant fingers, admiring them for a moment before she straightens up.

Alex's eyes flutter open dazedly. "Liv?"

"Hi, Alex." When Olivia cocks her head and smiles at the exhausted ADA, Alex scowls a little and presses her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose before she shifts up in her seat, smoothing down the skirt over her legs.

"Sorry. I think I nodded off there for a moment."

Putting down the cup on the coffee table behind her Olivia sits on the sofa next to Alex, turning to face her. "You want me to bring you a blanket?"

"No. No, I'm not… I'm fine." With visible effort the blonde pulls herself together. "No coffee for you?"

Ignoring the question Olivia catches Alex's eyes and locks their gaze, her face concerned. "Alex, I think you could do with some sleep."

The ADA's eyebrow arches. "Preaching to the choir, Benson?"

"I'm sleeping, Alex. I've got meds that knock me right out." Reaching out a hand the detective carefully presses her fingers to Alex's wrist in a gentle friendly touch. "You look exhausted. Do you need me to tell you that?"

"I'm fine, Olivia." Alex lifts her chin defiantly - it's so typically obstinate. Shaking her head Olivia sighs.

"I'm not saying you're not fine, Alex. I'm saying you could do with a little more sleep." Leaning forward Olivia rubs the arm under her fingers gently, "I'm not trying to be nosy. I'm concerned."

At that Alex looks away, her jaw stiff. She stares out of the window for a long time before she turns back to Olivia. Her eyes are still guarded, but there is vulnerability in it that Olivia can't recall ever having seen. "Do you… "

"Do I…?"

At the prompt Alex looks down, the curtain of hair hiding her again. Her voice is soft. "Do you ever have nightmares?"

"Nightmares?" Olivia is surprised, both at the question and the woman asking it. There is a moment of silence as she ponders. "Sure. When I just came back from the hospital. But now the pills knock me out most of the time." She doesn't see it fitting to add that the other times are filled with dark anxiety and sleeplessness. "I suppose I'll see once the prescription runs out." Angling her head down she tries to catch the other woman's eyes, impeded by the wall of hair between them. "Are you having nightmares, Alex?"

"No." Alex shakes her head. "Yes. It's not important."

"It's important to me."

The blonde's frame tenses up. "How's your shoulder?"

"Getting better. I'd like to go back to work, but Cragen's forbidden me. Alex?"

Alex ignores her quiet plea. "When are you going back?"

"If I have my way, tomorrow, but I'm officially booked off for another three weeks. They're making me take the full time." Olivia shifts forward a little more. "Alex, we haven't talked about what happened, and I think we need to. Now." When there is no response she lifts her hand and draws her fingers through the curtain of silky hair, tucking it behind Alex's ear so that she can look at her. "It wasn't your choice, Alex. What you did back there. He set you up. You had no other option. You must know that. Don't you?"

Against her will the blonde's eyes close at the feeling of the fingers stroking through her hair. She listens to Olivia's voice, one that she always finds so serious and persuasive, but tonight the words they're saying are simply flowing over and past her. Her silence speaks volumes.

With a soft sigh Olivia shifts on the couch, trying to get more comfortable, before she brushes gently at the long blonde hair with her hand. Soothing. Trying to draw the woman out. "Alex, he told you that you had a choice, but in the end he was going to shoot me, too. Whatever you did, it wouldn't have made a difference. Can you see that? If I hadn't been there he would simply have shot Rogan and … Well, we can't speculate on the rest. He knew you couldn't pick me, Alex, because I was a friend!"

"I couldn't pick you because you were YOU!" Alex abruptly and loudly interrupts. Leaning forward she puts her face in her hands for a moment before she straightens up. The shutters are back down. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I'll just… ", standing up she smoothes down her skirt with the palms of her hands, "… you probably want to get to bed. I'm sorry." It's delivered in a confused flurry as she hunts for her handbag, finding it on the counter where she left it, and opens the front door. Olivia has some trouble getting up, her ribs throbbing when she pulls herself forward, and when she is finally standing they look at each other across a space the size of two small coffee tables - and the depth of the ocean.

"I don't want you to go."

"I have to go."

Their words string together, over each other, intertwined. When Olivia pauses - pure politeness - Alex takes the gap.

"Thanks for the coffee, Olivia."

For the second time, Alex Cabot turns around and simply walks away.

Olivia phones Elliot immediately.

"Elliot, what the hell is going on with Alex?"

He's in the middle of something, muttering instructions to somebody on the other side, and it takes him a moment to reply. "I can't tell you, Liv."

Still sensitive from the emotional overload of Alex Cabot she's instantly affronted. "What do you mean you can't tell me, Elliot?! Since when don't we tell each other things?"

"Hey, cool down! You forget to take your happy pills this morning?" There's a genuine note of hurt in his voice. "I'm saying I can't tell you because I can't tell you, Liv. I don't know. Is something wrong with Alex?"

Closing her eyes Olivia tries to calm herself down, knowing that she's behaving badly with a man who doesn't deserve it. "Sorry, Elliot. I didn't mean to be… Why is she back at work? Shouldn't she be booked off? This is a bad thing that happened to her, Elliot. Is she even seeing somebody? Is she seeing Huang?"

Rather than trying to stave off the flurry of questions from his usually reticent partner, Stabler lets her run out of steam before he even tries to reply. "Liv, I don't know. Alex isn't that big on sharing her personal life, alright? You know this. If she's seeing George we're not entitled to know. What's this about, Liv?"

"She looks like hell, Elliot. Have you seen her?"

"Yeah." He stops to consider. "I thought she looked a bit tired, but being kidnapped and threatened at gunpoint will do that to you."

"She's… " Olivia sighs and reconsiders her words a few times, "… I don't know, Elliot. I don't know. She's taking strain. I know she's private and everything, but I was right there with her on this. I don't want her to think she's in it alone."

As hard as Elliot is trying he doesn't know what to say. Shrugging his shoulders to himself helplessly he clears his throat. "Look, Liv, why don't you invite her over or something? Just spend some time with her? She's still Alex Cabot, you know - you can't expect her to change overnight and spill her guts when you want her to."

"I know. It's just… Elliot, she said something the other day that… you know what, never mind."

"What, Liv?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. I'm just getting antsy hanging around at home."

"Don't come in until you're ready, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." He can hear in her voice that she's smiling a little. "Take care, Elliot." Ringing off she puts down the handset, keeping her hand on it for a long time before she makes her decision.

Alex Cabot looks weary to the bone, her large blue eyes glazed and heavy. She's not wearing her glasses this evening. Glancing down at the briefcase in her hand with a wry nod she shrugs her shoulders at Olivia. "Too enthusiastic. I know."

Cocking an eyebrow Olivia purses her lips. "We all know paperwork is your hobby, Alex. Your secret's out." Inclining her head she steps to the side. "C'mon in."

"Busted." With a slight smile Alex walks in and lifts her briefcase onto the counter. "Is it alright if I …?"

"Sure. It's fine there. Do you want a glass of wine?"

"I shouldn't. But I'm going to in any case. What are you drinking?"

"Californian red. Nothing extreme." Olivia notes the small lines around Alex's eyes and the slight scowl, probably indications that she has a headache. In silence she walks into the kitchen and gets out a pair of large glasses, filling them halfway with the crimson liquid before she passes one over. Standing on the other side of the counter with her hip pressed against it, Alex takes the glass with a murmur of thanks before she takes a slow cautious sip. Savoring the taste she licks her bottom lip languorously, unaware of the dark eyes taking in the motion and then glancing away awkwardly.

"That is so good."

A small moan slips from her throat and Olivia raises an eyebrow. "That good? Want to be left alone with the bottle?" Suddenly a faint flush races up her face. "Erm. That sounded bad. I didn't mean it like… Um. Never mind." She shakes her head at herself.

With a low laugh Alex shakes her head too. "Detective Benson, I advise you to take the fifth before you incriminate yourself."

"I'm taking you up on that." Composing herself Olivia steps out of the small kitchen and heads for the couch. "Let's sit down, Alex." Her motion is a little awkward, her back stiff as she sinks down onto the pillows, and Alex sits down a fair distance from her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Still a bit tender."

"Why do you sound so surprised? They had to dig a bullet out of you, Olivia."

"I'm aware of that." The words are comfortable and warmly humorous. "I just don't like being laid up. I'm not good with inactivity."

Alex takes another sip of her wine, her tongue slipping out to smooth the drops of wine from her bottom lip. "Why not?"

"Nothing complicated. I'm not very good at sitting still."

"Oh." There's something behind it, something Olivia can't quite grasp, and it's only there for a moment before Alex looks away and runs her finger over the edge of the glass pensively. "So what do you do when you're not at work?"

"Well, I watch TV, or I read." Olivia shrugs and a wince crosses her face. "Now see, that I can't do just yet." Lifting a hand she rubs absentmindedly at her chest, shaking her head at Alex's look of concern. "It's okay. I tend to think I'm healing faster than I actually do. Anyway, as I was saying, low boredom threshold."

"That surprises me." Alex sips at her wine, chuckling silently as Olivia suddenly realizes that she's being sardonic. The detective's eyebrows lift in disbelief.

"Oh really, miss Cabot? A lot would surprise you about me."

The tone is faintly challenging. Looking down at the red carpet under her feet Alex wonders whether to bite.

But then again - hazards of the job - she's not at all good at leaving sleeping dogs undisturbed.

"Like what?"

A quicksilver flash of unreadable emotion flares over Olivia's face before she puts her glass on the table and turns to Alex. "For instance, that I'm not easily distracted. Alex, I want to talk about that day."

"Haven't we already done that?"

Even the irritation in her voice isn't enough to deter Olivia. "No. I asked and you said there was nothing to say."

"And there wasn't."

"You're not sleeping, Alex! You're having nightmares, you're looking like shit - sorry - and you're not willing to have one simple conversation about it!" The dark woman doesn't mean for it to be so vehement, but she's at the end of her rope and she doesn't know what to do anymore. "I was there too, Alex! I know what happened! Why can't you talk to me? Tell me about your nightmares?"
"I dream that he shoots you, mostly." It's sudden and frank and surprising. Staring into her glass Alex runs her fingers along the rim delicately. "That he doesn't get shot by Elliot. That he shoots you and your chair falls over like Rogan's did. And you're… " her voice disappears in an uncontainable gasp which jerks her narrow shoulders before she can continue, "and you're lying there bleeding on the ground, and I'm tied up, and I can't reach you… " another involuntary sob escapes and she almost angrily gasps through it, "and you die right before my eyes." She's not breaking down. She's holding on too tightly for that, her knuckles white around the stem of the glass and her jaw set so tightly that her cheekbones stand out in sharp relief.

With a distressed sigh Olivia shifts closer and slips her left arm around Alex's shoulder, noticing but ignoring the tension in the muscles she's stroking in the narrow strong back. "Oh, Alex, I'm right here. It could have happened, but it didn't. I'm okay. I'm okay."

"It doesn't matter."

Olivia comprehends it for the subterfuge that it is and sidesteps it. "Yes, it does, Alex. You can't keep going like this. If you can't go and see George, then at least talk to me." Her hand moves up from Alex's back to comb gently through her hair. At the motion the blue eyes close tiredly for a moment before they open again and Alex turns her head to look at Olivia. At this distance she can see the bronze lights dancing in the deep brown eyes.

"Please."

The small heartfelt word undoes Alex. Her lips compress in an attempt to maintain her composure, but on this couch with this woman she has just lost her defenses. Even as she attempts to raise them again she can feel herself leaning in, closing the gap between them and registering a slight bewilderment on Olivia's face before their lips meet.

Alex's kiss is fierce, her mouth demanding though her hands are still wrapped around her wineglass. Olivia is considering stopping her, but she knows well that the slight infatuation she has with the ADA will make that action unattainable. Tightening her hand in the soft blonde hair she moans softly into the mouth exploring hers. A tongue, stroking hers. Lips, searching, on hers. Drawing her in hotly.

When her breath runs out - it's a shorter period of time than she'd like - she pulls back, humming throatily as Alex's face moves with hers, unwilling to let go.

"Alex."

The blonde blinks twice, quickly, before she sits back and brushes embarrassedly at her skirt with one hand, lifts the other to take a sip of wine and then decides against it. Her motions are unsure and erratic. "I'm … "

"Hey," Olivia smiles tentatively, "it's okay." A little uncertainly she shifts her hand from Alex's hair, dropping it onto the narrow shoulder before she finally moves it to the back of the couch. "Being scared makes us do weird things, Alex. It's okay."

"It's not about being scared, Olivia." When the ADA looks up, for the first time her eyes are still. "It's about you. It's about how I felt when that man pointed the gun at your head. About how I felt when I thought you were going to die. I'm sorry if you don't feel the same way about me. And I apologize for springing it on you like this. I just wanted to … wanted to check that you were breathing, I suppose. I don't know what else to say."

"Oh." To see detective Benson silent is not a new thing, but to see her without words is.

Lifting an elegant hand Alex tucks her hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry, Liv. I didn't mean to… " She starts to rise when Olivia's strong square hand lands on her thigh and beckons her back down.

"Wait."

Reaching for her glass Olivia takes a quick sip, her eyes fixed on the carpet at her feet. When she glances at Alex her face is indecisive, but her tone is clear. "Don't run away from me. Please. I need time to think about what just happened, later, but right now I want you to stay. Okay?"

"I don't think I should." Getting to her feet Alex finds herself blocked by the rising detective.

"Alex…" and then Olivia leans in with the sweetest kiss. Her mouth is warm and welcoming and as gentle as Alex never thought the detective would be. Sinking into the sensation the blonde lifts one hand and threads it through the short dark hair, closing her blue eyes in something akin to pleasurable pain. Her other hand lifts by itself, drapes over Olivia's hip, hooks itself in the waistband of her jeans.

The feeling of the detective's breath warm against her mouth is driving Alex to distraction. She has no idea what she's doing, and, considering that she's the one who started it, she doesn't want to be the one to stop. Her movements become more insistent, drawing passion from the woman pressed to her, and under her ministrations Olivia sinks against her, willingly helpless. It's changed now, the dynamic, the blonde surging forward and the brunette simply taking it all in.

Unhooking her fingers from the waistband of Olivia's jeans Alex runs her hand up the dark woman's side, careful not to jar her still sensitive ribs, and then over her back. Her touch is careful, wondering, and then suddenly possessive as she pulls Olivia into her. Feeling the abrupt desperation in the grip, the tensing of the fingers drawing her closer, the warmth of tears on Alex's cheek as their faces push together, Olivia hums soothingly in her throat.
Hey, I have you.
The result is unexpected; a surge of fervor from Alex when she draws Olivia even closer, her mouth fraught and unrelenting. Her arm curls around Olivia's shoulder and tightens, and as much as the detective does not want the pain to interfere with this urgently overwrought moment, it explodes down her chest and forces her to pull back, take a sharp gasping breath.

"Ah. Alex…"

And just as suddenly the ADA pushes backwards, her hands releasing Olivia with such force that she's almost pushing her away.

"Oh, god… "

Her pupils are dilated, shocked, her mouth is open and her breath coming in short exhalations. Pressing her fingers to her lips she stares at Olivia, catapulted from the edge of vulnerability.

"I didn't mean to hurt you…"

"It's okay, Alex. I'm okay." Holding out a hand Olivia wills the skittish woman to take it with a pleading glance. "Alex. If you break, I'm going to be right here to catch you. Do you hear me?"

The blonde looks at the offered hand, then up at the solid composed face above it. Her blue eyes widen, and then, abruptly, visibly, her shutters are down. Stepping past Olivia she reaches for her briefcase, ignoring the soft request from behind her.

"I have to go."

She doesn't understand. She sits at her customary windowsill, watching the world go by as she has always done, but now there's Alex at the back of her mind, whispering, and she can't hear what's being said. She tries to think of the kiss by itself, but it skitters off in the memory of the woman pulling from her arms. She tries to think of the woman pulling from her arms by itself, but it skitters off in the memory of the feeling of hot tears, not her own, on her cheeks. She tries to think of the memory of hot tears, not her own, on her cheeks by itself, but it skitters off in the memory of the kiss. And so it goes. Around and around. All of the thoughts are connected, but none of them are, and early in the morning she is exhausted and still as unenlightened as ever.

She tries to call Alex, but the answering machine picks up. "Hi, this is Alexandra Cabot, I'm not in at the… "

When did she kiss Alex Cabot and become an anxious wreck? When did she start seeing cracks in that perfect veneer? When did she start wanting so badly to fix them? When did solitude change into space for one more person? When?

And what can't Alex let go?

Elliot drops by. He finds Olivia in a corner of her couch, brooding, a bottle of beer clasped in her hand. Her dark eyes nod a greeting and return to staring at absolutely nothing. For someone who's been badly injured recently, she looks great. For someone who's been on leave for more than a week, she looks terrible. She's not been sleeping, he can see that in her eyes, and he throws out a casual query over his shoulder as he helps himself to a bottle from the fridge.

"I'm fine." Her voice brooks no disagreement, but he's her partner, and he doesn't take hints as well as he should.

"You look like shit, Liv." It's delivered with something almost like delight as he sinks into the other side of the couch and shifts his torso so that he can watch her. She looks up at him briefly and fights back a very rude answer. Decides on a sarcastic one.

"I'm sorry, should I have powdered the bullet hole in my chest?"

Elliot's not bothered. Taking a long sip of the cold beer he sits forward and rests his forearms on his thighs. "So."

"So?" She cocks her head at him belligerently.

"God, Liv, you're practically radiating irritation. What kind of pills they have you on?"

Pursing her lips she heaves a sigh. "Elliot, if you've just come here to annoy me then you're done."

"Fuck, Liv, since when do I need an appointment to care about you?" He wipes one hand over his head and takes another sip from the bottle. "Can you step out of this goddamned mood for just one second to talk to me about it?"

She wants to snap at him, chase him away with the words she knows she can choose effortlessly, but he's so solid and familiar, his blue eyes so warm when he looks at her, that she can't do anything like that at all. Sighing, she begins to niggle at the corner of the label on her bottle with a fingernail.

"Alex. She's not doing well."

"And?" He cocks his head. "What's the problem?"

"I don't know. If I did I'd be able to do … something. But I don't know."

"Can I ask you something, Liv?" He means she's going to be upset. "Why do you care? I mean, I know that Alex is a friend of yours, and that you went through this major traumatic thing together… but you guys have never been that close. So what's the big issue?"

"Because I was there, Elliot." She shakes her head at herself, some inner turmoil going on. "Because I'm the only one who understands what happened."

"I know what happened, Liv. We know."

"That's right." Olivia fixes him with those fathomless eyes. "You know. But I understand. It's something completely different."

"You know what, Liv?" Sitting forward Elliot puts down his bottle. "This is actually quite ironic." A small amused smile curls around his lips, and he tries to hide it, but he's not good at hiding things from her. In irritation she slams the bottle down on the table. Hard.

"What, Elliot? Are you laughing at me?"

"No, Liv." But he is. "At least, I'm trying not to. It's just kind of funny, okay?"

"No, not okay. I don't see the humor. Why don't you enlighten me?"

"Well." Trying to get his smile under control he purses his lips before he continues. "You want Alex to be fragile." Seeing Olivia's interruption coming a mile away he corrects himself. "Fine. It's all semantics, but let's say vulnerable. You want her to open herself to you. Make herself vulnerable. Right?"

She feels like being difficult out of principle, but smothers the urge. And smothers the urge to smother him, too. "Fine. If you want to put it that way." She's trying to convey that she doesn't care, but he sees right through her. At the moment she's hating that.

"So?" The big man shakes his head in amusement. "Ever heard the saying 'do as I say, and not as I do'? You're Olivia Benson, superwoman who never admits to anything. Look at you, Liv. You probably can't move without feeling it, but you turn away offers of help like we're trying to corrupt you."

"What is your point, Elliot? Do you have one?"

"You want her to be breakable, Olivia, when all along you've been telling her there's something wrong with being vulnerable."

Olivia scowls fiercely, her dark eyes frustrated. "You're talking garbage. There is nothing wrong with being vulnerable, Elliot."

"Oh?" He cocks his head. "Then why are you fighting against it every day?"

"I'm not fighting anything!" Her jaw muscles bunch as she grinds her teeth against the irritation. "I shouldn't have to be anything I don't want to."

"And if you wanted to?" Gently he puts a hand on her knee. "Would you share with the one person you imagine would think you weak for doing so?"

Olivia looks away from him, her profile stony.

"Liv. She's so much like you. Alex Cabot is unbreakable. If you want that to change, I suggest you try showing just a little fragility yourself."

Leaning forward without a word Olivia picks up her bottle and takes a long thoughtful sip from it. Swallowing, she presses the cool surface against her forehead for a moment.

"When did you get so sensitive and metrosexual on my ass, Stabler?"

"I live with a lot of women, Benson." He grins. "Say it with me. Elliot is always right."

Olivia phones Alex three times. On the first two occasions Alex refuses politely, but on the third she hesitantly agrees to visit.

When she reaches the detective's front door she finds it open. Inside Olivia is in the small kitchen, making filter coffee. Her shoulder and chest are not bandaged anymore, but underneath the black v-neck of the shirt that she is wearing a corner of pure white plaster peeks out. Her right arm is out of its sling, the movements stilted and careful. Peeking over her shoulder Olivia smiles at her guest, who is uncertainly standing at the counter, and inclines her head towards the living room.

"Hey. Sit down. I'm almost done." But Alex is only halfway there before Olivia's voice calls her back. "Sorry, Alex, can you help here? I'm not going to be able to carry the tray."

Bemusedly the blonde returns to take it, loaded with coffee and biscotti, to the living room. Olivia follows her and sinks into her usual corner of the couch, her liquid brown eyes crinkling at the ADA.

"How are you?"

Alex smiles a little grimly. She's exhausted and she knows she looks it. Now only to decide whether she admits to it or lies blatantly. "Working too hard." As she settles for in-between she realizes that she's echoing the words Olivia said to her what felt like years ago.

The detective nods, taking in the blonde's drained appearance. "Okay, Alex."

Her indulgent tone brings an immediately annoyed frown to the ADA's forehead. "What, Olivia?"

The dark detective shrugs in a non-committal manner. "You're probably not sleeping."

"Olivia." Alex sits forward and thumps the coffee cup down on the table. "We've talked about this before - and if you've invited me over to go on niggling about it then this visit is over."

More or less unperturbed Olivia lifts her cup and sips from it slowly before she speaks. "No, I'm not going to go on niggling about it. I'd just prefer if you didn't lie to me, Alex. Now calm down and drink your coffee."

There's something in her tone, something that Alex doesn't quite recognize, and with a frown the ADA picks up her cup and sips from it, her blue eyes watching Olivia warily over the rim. Catching the glance Olivia smiles a little.

"Relax, please, Alex. I just wanted to see you. Nothing sinister."

There is silence for a while as the two women, each sitting in their respective corners of the couch, drink the warm strong liquid quietly. Alex is still studying Olivia circumspectly, and when she realizes that the dark woman is making no move to talk Alex's gaze softens just a bit. She takes in the faint lines of strain around Olivia's dark eyes - eyes which have always fascinated her with their depth - and the too-languid way in which the detective is blinking.

"How's your shoulder?"

Olivia looks up, slightly bemused. "It's …" Oddly she stops to think before she completes the sentence. "It's tender. Between that and the ribs it gets pretty uncomfortable to sleep."

"And the pain pills?"

Shaking her head the detective looks down, a slightly self-conscious curve to her lips. "I don't like messing around with addictive things."

Alex frowns, her blue eyes pensive as she studies Olivia. "Even if they're prescribed?"

"My family history's not reliable like that." With a self-deprecating shrug the detective flashes a smile. "How about another cup of coffee?"

"Sure. Thanks." Holding out her cup Alex watches as Olivia gets up, wincing a little, and disappears into the kitchen. The detective's voice drifts out.

"How are things at work?"

The ADA leans back into the couch and yawns. "As usual. Trying to take down the scum. I suppose you heard that O'Meara's two goons both got indicted?"

"Yeah." Olivia doesn't say anything else, and when she comes back into the living room carrying the cups her gaze doesn't meet Alex's. Taking her coffee the ADA cocks her head.

"Olivia?"

The detective doesn't respond for a moment, and then lifts her eyes. "Yeah?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." A frown knots Olivia's forehead. "I hate remembering their faces so clearly. It's like they were just these small-time scumbags and I…" She shrugs half-heartedly. "Never mind. I don't know what I'm trying to say."

Putting down her cup Alex reaches out a hand and lays it warmly on Olivia's arm. "I understand, Liv. It feels as if they should be something minor you can just shake off."

The detective's dark eyes lift to her own. "Do you feel like that, Alex?"

"A little." With a light pat to Olivia's arm the blonde pulls back and reaches for her cup again. "For a while I thought that if O'Meara was dead I'd be able to put it behind me."

"And can you?"

"I think you can answer that." Blue eyes meet brown ones in silence. It's Olivia who looks away first, down to where her hand is reaching for the television remote.

"Do you mind if I watch the news?"

Aware of the discomfort in the detective's demeanor Alex acquiesces. "Sure."

They watch in silence, letting the images roll over them, and when the ADA gets up halfway through, Olivia's dark eyes only flicker to her for a moment.

Standing in the small bathroom Alex leans forward and presses her forehead to the cool mirror. She feels unsettled tonight, unsure of herself for no reason she can fathom. Olivia has been unusually forthcoming in certain regards, and then in others locks herself down so tightly that she becomes completely unreachable. Alex isn't sure whether she wants to lean in and kiss that well-shaped mouth again, to soothe the hurt showing so obviously tonight, or to back as far away as she can to save her sanity. She can feel her own grip slipping. It is harder to be resolute when those dark eyes so suddenly open to let her in.

She stays in there for a while, splashes her face, drinks some water, and to her own mortification finds it impossible to resist sniffing Olivia's deodorant furtively. Coming out she walks down the short hallway, ready to apologize lightly, and finds Olivia slumped to one side, her eyes closed and her breathing deep. Standing in the hallway Alex glances at the sleeping figure, and then at the front door. She's torn between simply walking out and leaving Olivia to sleep, and sitting down to spend just one more hour watching the dark woman's face, not worrying about what will be said and heard. In her mind Olivia's face is irrevocable connected to the jumping of her heart that day in the factory; the dark eyes remind her of impending disaster every time they glance at her. She feels as if she is losing Olivia Benson every time she sees her.

With one last rueful look at the door she slips onto the couch, into the furthest corner, and props her face up in one hand. Her blue eyes traverse the elegant planes of the detective's face, the delicate cheekbones, the vulnerable mouth. She watched Olivia until she almost drifts off herself. Reaching out a hand she halts its movement just shy of the slender one curled on the cushion beside the jeans-clad leg.

"NO!"

It's an indeterminable time later, and Alex jerks upright, struggling in those first few foggy moments to understand whether it's Olivia's nightmare, or her own, that has woken her. Blinking blearily she looks over to find the detective slumped forward, her head on her forearms and her shoulders shaking.

"Olivia?"

Shifting closer hesitantly she reaches out a hand, placing it tentatively on the warm back.

"Liv?"

Under the soft soothing motions of her fingers the detective's breath evens out slowly, until Olivia lifts her head. Her dark eyes are wet.

"Alex."

"Yeah. I'm here." Moving in Alex puts her arms around Olivia and pulls the dark woman into her body. "What's going on?"

"Nightmare." It's supposed to be a casual comment, but halfway through the word Olivia runs out of breath and sobs softly.

"Oh, sweetheart." Gently Alex runs her fingers through Olivia's hair and kisses her temple. "Want to talk about it?"

"No." It's said so quickly, and then the detective leans into the blonde's willowy body and sighs. "Yeah. In my dream O'Meara points the gun at my head, " she feels the slight tremor In Alex's body, "and then he shoots you instead. And I'm tied up, so I can't get to you." She lets loose a half-hearted self-deprecating chuckle. "Not a lot of detail. And not very original as far as nightmares go."

"No, it's not." Alex's voice is soft. "I'm having a variation of it. How dull we both are."

"Rather dull than dead, I suppose." Olivia's voice is so soft that the comment almost fades into nothingness. Pulling away from Alex's embrace the detective gets up, pressing her good arm against her side protectively. "I could do with something strong. You?" At Alex's nod she disappears into the kitchen, to reappear with two snifters filled almost halfway with something Alex guesses to be whiskey.

"Here."

"Thanks." Taking a sip Alex steels herself against the burn she knows is coming, and watches with quiet care as Olivia lowers herself onto the couch. Leaning back against the pillows the dark woman sips from her glass and closes her eyes in appreciation.

"Mmmm."

To Alex's embarrassment she can't control the flush that rises in her face at the detective's low throaty hum of appreciation, nor can she contain the jolt that shoots through her lower body. Looking away she takes another deeper pull at her glass, her jaw clenching as the fiery liquid slides down her throat, warming up as it settles. When she glances back Olivia's eyes are still closed. Almost as if planned, the detective licks her lips languidly before she turns her head and unexpectedly catches Alex in her gaze. Fixing her dark eyes on the unusual flush tingeing the delicate woman's cheekbones she frowns.

"Alex? Something wrong?"

The ADA shakes her head once, twice, the strands of blonde hair falling over her forehead, but when she looks up her eyes are filled with such naked need that Olivia's breath catches. Reaching out blindly the detective slides her glass onto the table so roughly that it topples and drops off the edge with a dull thunk, the whiskey splashing over the dark carpet. Alex shifts forward instinctively to pick up the fallen glass, but finds herself face to face with Olivia. Taking the blonde's own glass from her hand the dark woman puts it onto the table without looking, a little more accurately this time, her brown eyes never wavering from Alex's. At this close proximity she can hear the ADA swallow nervously.

"Olivia… "

"Don't." The dark eyes bore into her. "Don't tell me you have to leave."

Alex's eyes aren't wavering either. "That's not it."

"Then what?"

"Kiss me, Liv, damn it."

Without another word Olivia surges forward and captures Alex's full lips, her hands reaching up to wrap high around the back of the graceful neck. Tangling her fingers in the long blonde hair she kisses Alex fiercely, wondering if the ADA will pull back, and is answered in a breathtaking fashion by the ferocious response from the woman in front of her. One hand slips to the back of Olivia's head to pull her closer desperately as the other drops down to her lower back and forces her nearer. When their legs intertwine Olivia pushes gently but firmly, maneuvering Alex onto her back. Her denim-clad thigh slips between the ADA's bare thighs, and Alex arches her back into the sensation.

Whatever Olivia had once thought sex with Alex Cabot would be like, it is nothing resembling this. The blonde's hands are everywhere; stroking, touching, clenching, all with an air of wild desperation. Her long fingers trace down Olivia's neck, over her uninjured shoulder and collarbone into the hollow at the base of her neck, and at the searing intimate touch the detective swallows convulsively. Alex's hand slips down Olivia's ribs, the touch feather light, and finds the gap between her shirt and jeans. Her fingers dip below the hem of the black cotton, find the warm skin beneath, teases slightly before her nails rake the detective's lower back and the dark woman releases a low hissing groan.

Unused to not being the instigator, uncomfortable relegated to the passive, Olivia responds with a fierceness she has not felt for a long time. Her mouth plunders Alex's, her lips demanding entrance and taking it all at once. Their tongues clash, each wanting to dominate, and teeth scrape lightly over soft surfaces, leaving almost-bruised skin in their wake. Her square workman-like hand moves from the delicate arched neck, palm dragging over Alex's shoulder, her small tight breast under the stiff linen of her jacket, her rigid nipple, down over her stomach, her ribcage. Finally curling around the juncture between hip and thigh to pull the blonde's long body into hers.

When Alex's body rocks up into hers the first time a groan escapes Olivia's throat. Whatever Olivia had once thought sex with Alex Cabot would be like, it is nothing like this. And everything like it. The pelvis pressing up into hers sets a fire burning low in her. Sliding her hand down to the slender knee she lifts the blonde's leg and presses her thigh more securely against Alex's center, her movement pushing the ADA's skirt high onto her thighs. Rocking against the sudden pressure Alex exhales, a long shuddering sound, and slips her hand into Olivia's waistband at the small of her back, her fingers kneading the pliable flesh beneath them.

Tightening the muscles in her thighs Olivia starts a slow thrusting motion, matching it with a thorough rhythmical kiss that has Alex moaning into her mouth as the blonde's body begins to thrust with hers involuntarily. When the detective's hand suddenly slips up from her leg to her inner thigh, stroking over the hot wetness between her legs without preamble, Alex lets out a gasp that is swallowed by Olivia's lips. The detective's fingers smoothly probe through the soaked lace to the swollen mound below, and then start a slow stroking motion over the hard round nub beneath the material. She smiles against Alex's lips as she feels the blonde beginning to tremble under her, the thigh tensing and flexing spasmodically.

"Alex? About to come already?"

It's a low throaty question, and Alex groans before she opens her eyes, the incredible blue hazy.

"Oh god. Don't gloat, Benson." As the fingers at her core reduce their movement she thrusts her hips upward. "And don't tease."

Arching an eyebrow Olivia slowly pulls away her hand, making sure to draw her fingers over Alex's sensitive clit. Her gaze is intense. "I've waited for you for ever, Alex. I want to feel your skin against mine. I want to hear you groaning my name. I want to remember every sound, and scent, and flavor … That's what I want."

The blue eyes hold hers steadfastly. "Then you'd better get going, Benson. Right now I could come from the sound of your voice alone."

Clenching her jaw against the wave of passion threatening to engulf her Olivia pushes herself up from the couch, looking down at Alex's sprawled and disheveled appearance. Her dark eyes widen when she glances down to where the blonde's skirt has ridden up her thighs, exposing her legs, and without a word she extends a hand and pulls the ADA up. A slight hiss slips from her lips at the jarring of her shoulder, but she brushes it aside and leads the blonde to her bedroom, the wooden floors creaking under their feet as they make their way.

When they are standing at the foot of Olivia's bed Alex glances down and, realizing that her skirt has shifted up indecently high, reaches with her free hand to smooth it down. Before she can touch it she is intercepted by Olivia's hand, the fingers wrapping around her own to pull her hand away.

"Don't."

It is not a command, but a request, and the admiration in the detective's eyes as she appraises Alex's bared legs leaves the blonde flushing and pleased. They move together again, more controlled this time, but no less fevered, and collapse onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. At Olivia's pained groan Alex shifts away, suddenly unsure, her gaze locked onto the detective's hand now protectively curved over her wound.

"Olivia. I'm sorry. This isn't the best… You're still injured… "

Giving the site one last rub Olivia reaches out and pulls the uncertain blonde to her fiercely.

"Fuck that."

"Why, detective Benson," the ADA smiles against Olivia's searching lips, "are the boys teaching you bad words?"

"Hell no. I taught them all they know." Olivia fiddles with the buttons of Alex's jacket. "Help a poor invalid out here, Cabot. The first part of your title isn't 'assistant' for nothing."

With a trace of shyness about her curving lips Alex sits up and shrugs off her suit jacket. "I'm always glad to oblige my favorite detective."

"Don't mess with my head." Olivia runs a hand over the silk shirt, humming low in her throat as a nipple springs to attention under her fingers. "You always loved Fin more."

Shifting forward Alex covers the detective's body with hers. "Shut up, Liv." Her mouth claims Olivia's fiercely, and the heat between them rises again, slowly and inexorably. Slipping her hand down Alex's side Olivia strokes her hip, then her thigh, and when her hand cups around Alex's sex the blonde jerks onto her fingers with a soft exclamation. Olivia's long digits caress her with small circular motions over the wet lace, and breath leaves the blonde in a loud hiss when the dark woman abruptly slips the material aside and drags two fingers from her soaking hot entrance to her engorged clit.

"Olivia… "

It's more a breath than a word. Humming a feeling she has no name for yet the detective slides her fingers back down the slick silken groove and pushes them gradually into the blonde's welcoming body. With a groan Alex sinks down onto her hand, internal muscles clutching at her, and her mouth pauses on Olivia's as she closes her eyes and groans.
Levering their bodies around so that she is above Alex, Olivia leans forward and bestows a deep gentle kiss onto the parted lips as her hand begins to set an aching pace between the spread thighs under her. The ADA is as Olivia has never seen her; all control abandoned, her head thrown back, her body open and uninhibited. Lifting her long legs she wraps them around the detective's hips and rocks against the thrusting limb, her mouth blindly locking onto Olivia's neck. The shuddering exhalations roll down the detective's spine and curl into waves of desire low in her gut.

When Olivia suddenly withdraws her hand Alex groans sweetly in the back of her throat, her disappointment clear as she arches up her body searching for touch. Her hands are tangled in the back of the detective's black shirt, and Olivia has to run her hands up Alex's arms, forcing them above the blonde head, before she can shift in the embrace.

"Patience, sweetheart," she answers Alex's incoherent question before she slides down to unbutton the silk shirt and unhook the bra clasp at the valley of the blonde's cleavage. With hungry eyes she devours the landscape revealed to her before she plants a kiss on the smooth skin on the sternum, then small fluttery kisses on the firm breasts. When her mouth hovers above the rosy nipple Alex surges up under her, breath ragged, and it is all Olivia can do not to simply take the blonde right there and then. Abandoning the slowness she roughly pulls the taut nipple into her mouth, rolling her tongue around the hard nub insistently until Alex bucks beneath her, hands straining down towards her lover. Mercilessly Olivia gives the other nipple the same treatment, and when she draws her mouth away with a light nip the blonde beneath her exhales explosively.

"Olivia… please…. "

There's a thickness to Alex's voice, something Olivia almost doesn't catch, and when she looks up the blonde woman is crying. It's quiet, the way Olivia has always thought the ADA would. In alarm Olivia slides upwards over the warm skin, her brows drawn together in concern, but before she can reach Alex's face, before she can put her strong square hand against the pale cheek, the blonde's fingers are at her shoulders, pressing her down gently but firmly.

"Sweetheart… " the word dies in Olivia's mouth.

"Liv."

Wrapping her left arm around the lean - now too lean - thigh, ignoring the ache in her right shoulder, the detective lowers her mouth to the waiting heat beneath her and tries to convey the things she struggles to find words for. Her lips caress, draw in, her tongue dips, flutters. It is impossible to hold back anymore, and she hardly cares when the tears silently pooling in her eyes spill and run down her face, run over the skin underneath her mouth, leave hot trails down the inside crease of the blonde's hips. Above her Alex pauses and then strains upward; some breathless moans, some unrestrained sobs, and her pleasure knits into her grief until she is weeping and shaking indeterminately. Unwrapping her left hand from the silky inner thigh Olivia reaches up, past the trembling hip, and finds her fingers grasped, intertwined between Alex's. The ADA's hand is tight around hers, so tight that she has to flex the corded muscles in her forearm at an attempt for relief, and she begins to wonder who exactly is soothing who.

There is no real question of what will happen next. With a sudden jerk the blonde arches off the bed, and she is wailing. Her normally cool low voice is raw, Olivia's name mingling with release, and between the moaning and the sobs she's gasping for breath as if she'll never have air in her lungs again.

Cupping Alex's spasming groin protectively with one hand Olivia moves up and wraps herself around the helpless woman, murmuring irrelevant words as she leans close to hold the bleak blue eyes with her gaze. Turning her blonde head this way and that Alex tries weakly to avoid her, but Olivia moves with her, keeps her safely locked in those dark eyes, until all she can do is to look back and wait for her breath to stop quivering.

They lie silently, closely, for a long moment before Alex speaks. Her words are so soft and low that Olivia has to lean closer and cock her head slightly to catch them.

"Are you scared?"

Unsure, the detective leans back to look at the blonde with an inquiring frown. "Scared of what, Alex? The memories? Is that what you're asking?"

With a slight nod the ADA looks away, and suddenly twists out from under the other woman. Rolling over she presents her narrow back to Olivia. "That too, I suppose."

"That too?" Resisting the urge to take Alex in her arms Olivia lays a light hand on the curved hip, careful not to get too close. "I get the nightmares all the time, Alex. I told you. Does it bother you that you can't forget?"

"No. The nightmares … they come with the territory, right?. I don't think I'd be human if I could just … in any case. It would probably be better if I had somebody next to me at night."

It's said offhandedly, no trace of a hint, and Olivia takes care not to make any promises that could hurt either of them later. "I'm sure you would. What scares you, Alex?"

"Spiders, germs, guns… " Alex doesn't stall. Ever. She either simply ignores the question or moves towards it at her own inexorable speed. "Not having control. Not knowing."

There is a long silence, and Olivia is about to prompt her when Alex suddenly rolls over and looks at her bluntly.

"After … it happened, I'm waking up crying at night, thinking you've died, and every time I'm fighting to stop myself from picking up the phone just to hear you on the other side. I'm thinking you probably wouldn't appreciate it if I phoned you at 3 in the morning because somewhere deep inside in some ridiculous place I'm hoping that you sleep better than I do. Or at least that the pills kick you out into a peaceful place for a little while each night. Then I'm sitting on your couch looking at you and I'm staring at the things I see every night in every dream; your eyes, your chin, your mouth… and every time you talk I can't seem to keep my eyes off your lips. I wonder if I can kiss you to make sure you're breathing. If I can put my hands over your chest just to feel it rise." Lifting her hands Alex places them gently on Olivia's chest, her fingers splaying out. "I want you to touch me so that I know you're alive, Liv, and I can't tell whether there's anything beyond that. I don't want to use you, but I don't know if this will be enough right now. I can't guarantee that I won't want to call you tomorrow night, or that I won't want to come over tomorrow and make you touch me again. And I can't stand to feel like this, Olivia."

Closing her dark eyes Olivia frowns. "You don't know whether you want me or just the comfort of me."

"I'm sorry." Alex's long fingers curl against the black shirt. "I don't want you to think ... Liv, I want you to understand. I don't want to lie to you."

"And once I'm done soothing the nightmares you walk away?" Prying Alex's hands from her chest Olivia rolls over to perch on the side of the bed, her face hidden by the shadows as she looks away. "I don't know if I can do that."

"I don't want you to." With slow hands the blonde slides her skirt back down, smoothes her impossibly crumpled silk shirt down fruitlessly. "I want you to walk away if you need to. Or I want you to stay, but know what you're in for."

"Alex… " It's not much more than a tortured breath into Olivia's hands, pressed against her forehead, and without thinking the ADA shifts closer and wraps her arms around the dark woman from behind, holding her tightly.

"Liv. Don't pull away. Please. I've told you what I feel. I'm completely open here, I'm not used to it - I need you to meet me halfway."

The blonde can feel the body underneath her shift as Olivia chuckles without much humor. "You've told me you're not sure what you feel. I'm sure what I'm feeling. Is there much more to say?"

Alex's arms tighten around Olivia's body. "I've always admired that about you. You're always so sure about everything." She lays her forehead against the strong back. "I admire many things about you, Olivia. And I want to be here, with you, right now."

"But not for ever."

"I didn't say that." The blonde's hands gently stroke the tense muscles below them. "I just might love you, Liv. I really want to stay and find out. But I don't want to say that out loud, just in case … Olivia, you need to tell me whether you want to walk away."

The dark woman turns her head into the darkness, but from the movement of her back Alex can tell that she is crying. From grief or frustration the blonde doesn't understand yet.

"Alex." One hand lifts to cover and grasp the ADA's. "What are the odds that I can ever walk away from you?"

Elliot answers his phone on the second ring.

"Liv. You okay?"

"No." He can tell she's smiling that tiny smile simply from the sound of her voice. "Cap tell you I'm finally taking some leave?"

"Yep. Incidentally I heard from reliable sources that ADA Alexandra Cabot has taken leave at exactly the same time."

"Hmm. Fancy that." She's quiet. She knows just how to yank his chain.

"So, where're you going?"

"Hawaii. Figure it was time to lay around on the beach and sip margaritas."

"Sounds too good for you. I'm jealous." Elliot clears his throat and then decides just to go ahead and ask. "Liv, are things okay with Alex?"

Her chuckle is warm. "I'll tell you in three weeks. Bye, Elliot."

Before the phone dies in his ear he can swear he hears Alex Cabot murmuring indistinctly - and unusually affectionately - on the other side.

THE END

~ Unbreakable ~
by K. Alexander

For the DISCLAIMER and WARNING please check part one.

COMMENTS Here we go. Buckle your seatbelt. Find me at kalexy@webmail.co.za

Part 2

Alex is wrapped in a warm grey blanket with a paper cup of hot black coffee wrapped in her hands. Her pupils are still slightly too dilated, even though she has been injected with something for the shock and is already struggling to stay upright. Behind her Stabler is surreptitiously supporting her as she gives her statement, slowly and painstakingly, to Munch. Occasionally her glance slips down the hall, to where she knows Olivia has been in the operating room for an hour already. When Elliot squeezes her shoulder in support she doesn't respond. Wrapping it up Munch shoots a questioning look at Elliot before he clasps Alex's arms gently for a moment. When he leaves she watches him without comment.

Moving around, Elliot sits down on the edge of the bed with her. "Alex, she'll be fine. There was a lot of bleeding, but they've got it under control now. A few weeks and she'll be good as new. Alex?"

Lifting the cup to her mouth she sips slowly at the hot liquid, barely noticing as it scalds her tongue, before she replies. "I'm okay, Elliot."

"Is there anyone I can call for you?" He persists.

"No. No-one." Suddenly she hands over the cup of coffee, and he winces at the heat in his bare palms. "If you can take this, I think I need to sleep."

"Okay." Stepping back he watches as she curls up, her back to him, and pulls the grey blanket over her shoulder. She looks so vulnerable, and he knows that Olivia would have wanted him to stay with her, but at this moment he can't bear intruding. Softly he walks out into the hallway where Cragen is standing, and when the captain turns he offers a grim smile.

"How is she?"

"She's Alex Cabot, cap. Hurting like anything and not letting anybody in. Any news on Olivia?"

"Yeah. They just moved her to the ICU. She's still out, but you know what she's going to be like, Stabler." He grins slightly. "Hurting like anything and not admitting one bit of it."

"They're a perfect match, these two," Elliot comments wryly before he glances down at the coffee in his hand. "I'm getting. You want some?"

"No." Cragen looks down the hallway, and then back at Elliot. "I've got to go sort out that goddamned mess, Elliot. I've got dead priests and kidnapped ADAs and a case without a perp and a director in the wrong place at the right time. You stay here, and let me know when Olivia wakes up, okay?"

"Cap?" Elliot looks a little sheepish. "What about Alex?"

"She's in shock, Stabler. Let the doctors tell you what to do. Beyond that, she'll decide for herself. She always does."

Through a fog Olivia can hear her name being called. In irritation she tries to open her eyes, but they seem glued together. Her head feels as though it's been stuffed with cotton wool. She tries once more to open her eyes, and when the result is still the same she shifts slightly. The resulting pain immediately forces a deep groan from her. Warm hands spread over her, holding her down gently, and as much as she wants to fight she can't. With a dizzying twirl her mind spins back to darkness.

"Olivia?... Liv?  Olivia!"

"Don't shout." It's weak, but it's there. This time she manages to open her eyes, to be greeted by the sight of Elliot's big smile. "What are you so happy about?"

Her voice is so scratchy he only catches every second word, but still he knows exactly what she's saying. Grinning, he shrugs. "Hey, it just feels good to see your eyes open for a change. You've been lying down on the job for a while. Need to stop wasting time, Benson."

"I'll try." Shifting, she tries to move up on the bed, but the pain dissuades her fairly quickly. With a muttered "fuck" she slides back down, turning her head slowly to look at her bandaged upper chest.

"It took out a bit of your collarbone."

"Son of a bitch."

Smiling at her tetchy tone he nods. "Yeah. They managed to clear it all, and wrap the broken ribs, but you're going to be booked off for a while, Liv."

"Aren't I suspended, Elliot?" She's scowling slightly.

"Yes you are, Liv," he grins, "but that's not going to stick for long. And when you're free to come back, none of us want to see your sorry ass running around for a while yet."

"Damn." Her drollness is aimed to be amusing and he laughs.

"I bet you were looking forward to it."

Frowning a little she blinks a few times before looking up at him. "Elliot, where's Alex? Is she okay?"

The big man inclines his head to one side. "She's in one of the wards. The doctors have been keeping her for observation these last two days. Quite frankly I just think she's hanging around to keep an eye on you." He looks down uncomfortably. "She was in shock, Liv. Badly. I think it'll do her a world of good to see you awake."

"Mm. Can you do that?" Even as she speaks Liv's eyes are drifting shut of their own accord. Elliot chuckles.

"You sure you're up for it?"

"Sure." And then she nods off.

When she opens her eyes again Alex Cabot is leaning against the doorframe, her face more drawn and pale than usual. At the sight of the detective's awareness the blonde smiles slightly and steps forward, pausing uncertainly just inside the door.

"Olivia?"

"Hey." Her voice is rough from disuse and dryness, but also warm. When she flexes her right hand, snug in its firm sling, the ADA approaches her quietly. With some hesitation she takes Olivia's hand in hers, cautious not to move the limb. Her blue eyes are still.

"How are you feeling?"

"Mmm." The detective grins. "Great. I'm pumped full of morphine. How are you?"

"I'm okay." Those blue eyes lock onto Olivia's with a quiet expression she can't read, a guardedness that draws her forehead into a frown.

"Alex?" She squeezes the blonde's hand to get her attention, even though it's not much of a grip. "Talk to me?"

When the ADA's head drops forward her blonde hair shields her face from Olivia's view. Alex's hand is limp in Olivia's. She shakes her head ever so marginally. "I don't have anything to say, Olivia. I just wanted to know that you're okay. Look" she withdraws her hand, and immediately Olivia misses the secure warmth, "I have to go. They're signing me out today." When she looks up again her expression is back to normal.

Blinking a little to clear away the weariness threatening to overwhelm her, the detective scowls. "Alex? Don't walk away from me."

"I'll see you later, Liv." With a last long look at the white bandage covering the bleary woman's chest, Alex Cabot walks out of the room.

A day later Tutuola comes to check on her, and in greeting drops the New York Times on her lap casually. A loud groan slips from her chest and he's at her side, instantly apologetic and anxious.

"Jeez, Olivia, I didn't mean to hurt you. You okay?"

Reaching out her left hand casually she pulls the newspaper closer, her worn-out dark eyes twinkling. "Sorry, Fin, it was a joke. I'm yanking your chain. What's in here?"

His brows pull together broodingly. "Not funny, Benson. I'd kick your ass if you weren't in a hospital bed." Leaning forward he taps the front page. Shaking the paper awkwardly with one hand Olivia reads the small fuzzy black letters:

Two arrested for kidnapping of New York Assistant District Attorney

Yesterday two as yet unnamed men were arrested for the kidnapping of Assistant District Attorney Alexandra Cabot and NYPD Detective Olivia Benson. They will also be appearing in court on a charge of assault on Detective Benson.

Skimming through the rest of the paragraph Olivia puts down the paper. "So who were they, Fin?"

Pulling closer a chair he sits at the side of the bed, his dark eyes serious. "The perp who was shot, the one who did Rogan - he's Reilly O' Meara. His brother, Jason, is a businessman who's involved in charity with Saint Michael's. Looks like little bro found out there was more going on with his nephew than singing in the choir."

Olivia shifts a little against the pain. "But why get into trouble over the whole thing with Cabot? Rogan was about to go down, right?"

Ignoring the impulse to make a rude pun Fin shrugs. "There are two factions at work here, Olivia. Seems like O'Meara pushed Andretti forward for questioning, and the big guns behind Rogan pulled Andretti out again. It's a power play, and O'Meara thought he was losing. He might have been, too, if the rumored names behind Rogan are anything to go by. He may even have thought that Cabot was a part of it, if the two runts we have in custody are to be believed. Any case, Rogan's just been found guilty and tried by a bigger court."

Taking one last look at the old grainy black and white picture of Alex on the front page, immaculate in her fitted suit on the steps of the courthouse, Olivia lays down the paper and cocks her head at the dark detective. "And my suspension, Fin? You know anything about that?"

"Look," he shifts to the front of his seat, his eyes on hers, "this ain't official"

"Of course." Her tone is dry.

" but I think that'll be sorted soon. Cragen's been shouting at that little Weenan prick the entire morning, and some of that was about you and Andretti. As if it wasn't enough that his . "

It's at this point that Cragen, Munch and Elliot come through the door with the good news.

After five more days the doctor is ready to discharge her. He lets her into Elliot's charge with a stern warning to take it easy and a bag full of medication. At first, when her partner brings in the wheelchair, she looks at him with that wry you've got to be kidding me expression he knows so well, but when she has taken ten steps and her bandaged chest feels as if it's about to tip her over, and her screaming ribs are making their presence known more than ever, she silently acquiesces and sits down gingerly in the offered seat. Elliot wheels her to the car and helps her into the passenger seat with such considerate attention that even if it's driving her crazy, she can't snap at him. At her apartment he supports her covertly with a hand under her left elbow, and though she will never admit it she actually appreciates his solid presence next to her.

He settles her onto her bed and moves several things to within her reach, including a jug of water - she didn't know she had a jug, even less so how and where he'd actually found it - a glass, and the remote to the television. When he prepares to sink onto the window seat she stops him.

"Elliot, what are you doing?"

"What?" Halfway down he pauses, a comical sight with his butt sticking out. His eyebrows are arched. "Hey, the doctor said you need someone to keep an eye on you. That's me, Liv, unless you have a miniature nurse stashed in your closet."

"Wouldn't you like to know." She shakes her head a little, her motion restricted both by the tight bandage and the uncomfortable pain the action causes. "Elliot, go home."

"No, Liv." Lowering himself onto the cushioned seat he crosses his legs. "Cragen told me to hang around and I'm not about to disobey his orders."

"How noble of you," she comments dryly before reaching out and lifting the glass for a sip of water. Her dark eyes are watching him over the rim of the glass and he knows she's about to be difficult even before she puts it down. "Elliot "

"Don't Elliot me."

"Elliot." This time it's very clearly exasperated. "I'm tired and sore and I want to go to sleep. Go away."

"Hey, I'm not stopping you." He reaches down for a magazine he must have brought with him - she doesn't have any in her apartment, never has time to read them, or the inclination - and shakes it open randomly, probably more for the effect than the actual page he's open at.

Glaring at him Olivia settles into the pillows, trying to make her aching body as comfortable as she possibly can, before she addresses him again. "Elliot? I'm going to go to sleep now. When I wake up I'll be having to do things like sponge baths and changing of bandages, and I don't want you here for that. Okay?"

He starts to object, but by the serious set of her face he can see that she is not joking. With a sigh he lowers the magazine to his thighs and looks at her questioningly. "Will you be all right by yourself?"

"I always have been, Elliot." She pulls the blanket up to her neck. "Good night. Drop in some time." Soon her even breathing signifies sleep. Frowning, Elliot Stabler closes the magazine and studies the dark hair protruding from the top of the blanket, his face indecisive.

When she wakes up she is disorientated for a moment, expecting the hospital lights overhead. Lying still she looks at the high ceiling, and then turns her head to study the window with the seat below it where she has spent a lot of time quietly in the middle of the night. There is nobody in the seat, no tall man watching her, and only the magazine remains, squarely in the middle of the cushion. From the light outside it seems to be either late afternoon or early morning. Working her left arm out from under the blanket she grasps for the glass of water, bringing it to her mouth with a wince as raising her head slightly unleashes a snapping feeling in her chest. Ah. Pain killers wearing off.

"Elliot?"

No answer. He must have taken her seriously. Good.

She considers getting up and fetching a cool cloth to run over her face - it's hot and she hadn't taken off her jeans and long-sleeved shirt with Elliot in the room. On second thought, imagining the effort to do anything at all right now, she simply pops three pain pills in her mouth and washes them down with water. Then, closing her eyes, she lets sleep take her again. She hasn't slept this much - or this soundly - in the last year.

She wakes up hot and uncomfortable, her chest and shoulder throbbing in time with her heartbeat. Swallowing, she grimaces at the gritty feeling in her throat before reaching for the glass. It's empty. She shifts a little further and tries to lift up the jug, but with uncustomary lack of foresight Elliot's filled it with too much water, and every attempt brings a shiver of ice-cold pain lancing down her upper body. Finally she gives up, lying still for a moment and considering her situation. She could phone Elliot - the phone is right at her side - but then he'd come over and gloat. And she's not used to having things done for her.
The light outside is faint. She has no idea what time it is. Her watch is lying on the table where Elliot put it, but she doesn't feel like stretching to take it. Shaking two more pain pills into her mouth she swallows them dry and settles back onto the bed. Maybe if she could get out of these jeans she'd be more comfortable. With her left hand Olivia unsnaps the waistband and pulls down the zipper, but with only one hand she proves too clumsy to push it down. Sighing at herself in frustration she closes her eyes and slips into a shallow unpleasant sleep.

The gun is aimed at her temple. She can hear the hammer pulling back if she listens carefully. At the last moment the barrel swings around to point at Alex Cabot's beautiful drawn face and the shot sounds.

"No!"

Olivia Benson shoots up, her eyes fluttering, and it takes her a while to realize that she is in her own bed. Her torso is burning unbearably. Lifting her left hand she feels dazedly at the bandages, and then further up to wipe at her clammy face.

"Elliot?"

Somehow she thought he was here.

Alex closes the door behind her and puts the key on the kitchen counter. She got it from Elliot when she asked him whether she should visit Olivia. That, a skew smile and a "You'd better take this - she'll think it's me and not bother to open the door."

She's never been in Olivia's apartment before. It's much as she imagined it would be. The furniture shows a propensity for mostly dark wood, though there are a few mismatched pieces making it clear that Benson is not into collecting. Or coordinating. There are rich red carpets on the floor, the only other sign of a personal preference.

"Olivia?"

She keeps her voice low, worried that the detective might be asleep and trying not to wake her.

"Elliot?"

Alex's face relaxes just a little into a half-smile as she hears the hoarse and irritable voice. Following the sound of Olivia's reply she answers. "No, it's Alex."

"Alex?"

She has found the bedroom and is just on time to see the dark head poke out from above the blankets, and the bleary confusion.

"ADA Alex Cabot, Benson. Remember me?" It feels strange to be teasing Olivia, and especially so when she's not really in a light-hearted mood. Stepping closer she stands at the side of the bed and looks down at the detective's groggy face. Olivia's dark hair is mussed and damp at the temples.

"What are you doing here, Alex?"

"I came to see how you were. If you'd rather I left "

"No." Shifting under the blanket Olivia tries to get a little more comfortable. "Sit down."

"All right. Thanks." Alex perches on the side of the bed awkwardly. "So how are you, Olivia?"

Still a little sleepily the dark woman answers. "I'm kind of thirsty. Can you get me some water, please?"

"Sure." Getting up Alex moves around and lifts the jug easily to fill the glass, which she then holds out to Olivia. Trying to shift herself up, Olivia grimaces before she takes the offered liquid.

"Thanks."

Alex frowns when the detective's hand brushes over her own. "Olivia?" Clasping one hand over the dark woman's forearm she pauses for a moment before she suddenly shifts her hand up and rests it gently against Olivia's forehead. "Why are you so hot?"

"What a question." It's accompanied by a skew smile. "Though I'm absolutely flattered." She shifts her head from Alex's hand and takes a small sip of water. "It's warm in here."

"Olivia, it's not." The blue eyes are stern and concerned above the rim of her glasses, and for a moment the detective has an odd impulse to run a thumb over Alex's ever-so-serious bottom lip. "You're too warm. Have you been taking your antibiotics?"

Turning her head to the side Olivia tries to look at the bottles of pills, but has some trouble focusing on the closer ones. "I don't know," she finally admits, "I took something. I'm not sure."

"Okay." The ADA looks down at her musingly before she flips open her phone and steps out of the room. By the sounds of her conversation she is talking to someone at the hospital, and the detective part of Olivia's nature wants to listen in, hear what she's saying, but the physical part is weak and shaky and not at all willing to concentrate. When Alex comes back in Olivia is looking at the window. Perching again on the very edge of the bed the blonde touches the injured woman's cheek softly. "Olivia?" She is discomfited by touching the detective intimately like this, but above the blanket the only part of Olivia's body on offer is the strapped and bandaged shoulder and chest, and she can't venture below the blanket for fear of accidentally jarring the broken ribs.

At her touch the detective turns her head and fixes dark brown eyes on hers. "What time is it?"

For just a second Alex is unwilling to look away. Those eyes have been in her dreams lately, focusing on her above a silver strip of tape, and she consciously has to now push the sudden feeling of rising panic away. Lifting her hand she makes a show of checking her watch. "It's twenty past six, Liv. Why? Does it matter?"

"No. I just can't tell with the light. That's the third time."

"What?"

"That's the third time. That you've called me Liv."

"Oh." Alex looks down. "I'm sorry. I hadn't noticed. If you don't like it I'll stop."

"I like it."

Olivia's eyes are still caught up in her own and she is finding it harder and harder to maintain her composure. Standing up too quickly she walks around the bed and lifts the prescriptions one by one, reading the labels and shaking several pills from two of the bottles. "Here - you were supposed to be taking these."

After the detective complies Alex puts the glass back on the side table and eyes the bandage with trepidation. "I think we're going to have to change that, Olivia."

"Okay." With some assistance from Alex Olivia painfully gets into a sitting position, but before she can continue the detective puts a hand on her arm. Olivia's expression is unusually self-conscious. "Alex, I hate to ask but can you help me get these jeans off? I think I have creases in my legs by now."

"Sure." Pulling down the blankets the ADA helps Olivia ease the pants down her legs, certain that her face is more flushed than she would like it to be. Folding them neatly she puts them on the nearest chair and turns to see a slightly grinning detective. "What?"

"I should have guessed you'd be the type to fold jeans." Reaching up with her left hand Olivia wipes her eyes tiredly. "Ugh."

Between them they manage to remove the sling and the bandages with the least amount of jarring possible, and Alex takes great care not to look at the puckered and sewn-together patch of flesh as she dabs at it with the antiseptic before putting on a clean patch of gauze and wrapping it up carefully. Moving the arm back into the sling proves to be more of a challenge, and when she is finished Olivia is drawn and pale. With a sigh the detective settles back into the pillows and takes a deep breath to settle her suddenly queasy stomach.

"Thanks, Alex."

"No problem." Her voice is so smooth and soothing that Olivia involuntarily closes her eyes. She's gone to court just to hear this voice once or twice, knowing that it'd quieten her after a hard day, but that is something she'll never admit.

Seeing the detective's eyes flutter closed Alex gets up quietly, pausing when Olivia's eyes open again and focus on hers.

"Will you be okay, Liv?"

The blonde looks so weary and fragile and vulnerable, trying to hide it all at once, and Olivia feels as if her heart is being torn in a million different directions. On the one hand she wants to say no, just so that this woman stays close enough for her to protect. On the other, she knows she will be fine, and she knows that Alex needs some rest, and that she shouldn't be monopolizing her time for no reason at all except one she's not willing to voice.

"Of course, Alex. Thanks for the help, though."

"It was my pleasure." Alex smiles at her, a half-hearted incident. "Take care of yourself."

When she locks the door behind her she leans against it for a moment and exhales shakily before she goes downstairs and hails a taxi.

Upstairs Olivia is studying the ceiling, her thoughts a thousand miles away.

It is a week later when Alex stands at the same door, smoothing her hands over her thighs in an unusually tense motion before she knocks. She's decided not to let herself in today, aware of the fact that Olivia is moving around by now, highly irritable and itching to get out of her apartment. It's half a minute before Olivia's voice sounds inside.

"Coming!"

The door opens slightly and brown eyes peer out guardedly before she smiles. "Alex. Hi." The door is unlatched from inside with a slick metallic sound. "Come in."

The ADA stands next to the kitchen counter, her blue eyes taking in the bandage showing beneath the button-down shirt and the disheveled wet hair, and at the latter the detective's eyes crinkle a little. Lifting her left hand she tries to wipe down the mussed brown strands in a charmingly self-conscious motion. "I know. I was just drying it."

Even as she does so she's taking in Alex's appearance capably. The ADA is not sleeping, of that much she's sure. Good make-up skills have taken care of any possible dark circles under those blue eyes, but her face is pallid and the set of her shoulders tired.

"Do you need any help?"

Startled in her observation Olivia frowns. "What?"

"Help." Alex patiently repeats herself. "It must be rather hard to dry your hair with just one arm."

"Oh. That." Olivia shakes her head. "No, don't worry, I'll manage. You can make yourself some coffee in the meantime if you'd like. Everything's on the counter and there're cups in the cupboard above the kettle. Okay?"

"Sure you don't need help?"

"Absolutely. Make yourself comfortable." Olivia disappears into the bathroom.

Turning around, Alex puts her handbag on the counter and leans against it for a moment, the lack of sleep catching up with her until she pushes herself away from the surface with determination and puts on the kettle, making herself a strong cup of black coffee. It gives her headaches, but she needs the jolt. It also keeps her up a large portion of the night, but that's not something she sees as negative at the moment.

When Olivia returns ten minutes later - however much she protests, it hurts everywhere to hold up her arm like that for a prolonged period of time - Alex is in a corner of her leather sofa, the blonde head nodding to one side in almost-sleep and the cup of coffee half empty and lolling at a precarious angle. Her long legs are stretched out in front of her and her blue skirt is high up on her thighs. Moving forward quietly Olivia reaches out and cautiously lifts the cup from between those long elegant fingers, admiring them for a moment before she straightens up.

Alex's eyes flutter open dazedly. "Liv?"

"Hi, Alex." When Olivia cocks her head and smiles at the exhausted ADA, Alex scowls a little and presses her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose before she shifts up in her seat, smoothing down the skirt over her legs.

"Sorry. I think I nodded off there for a moment."

Putting down the cup on the coffee table behind her Olivia sits on the sofa next to Alex, turning to face her. "You want me to bring you a blanket?"

"No. No, I'm not I'm fine." With visible effort the blonde pulls herself together. "No coffee for you?"

Ignoring the question Olivia catches Alex's eyes and locks their gaze, her face concerned. "Alex, I think you could do with some sleep."

The ADA's eyebrow arches. "Preaching to the choir, Benson?"

"I'm sleeping, Alex. I've got meds that knock me right out." Reaching out a hand the detective carefully presses her fingers to Alex's wrist in a gentle friendly touch. "You look exhausted. Do you need me to tell you that?"

"I'm fine, Olivia." Alex lifts her chin defiantly - it's so typically obstinate. Shaking her head Olivia sighs.

"I'm not saying you're not fine, Alex. I'm saying you could do with a little more sleep." Leaning forward Olivia rubs the arm under her fingers gently, "I'm not trying to be nosy. I'm concerned."

At that Alex looks away, her jaw stiff. She stares out of the window for a long time before she turns back to Olivia. Her eyes are still guarded, but there is vulnerability in it that Olivia can't recall ever having seen. "Do you "

"Do I?"

At the prompt Alex looks down, the curtain of hair hiding her again. Her voice is soft. "Do you ever have nightmares?"

"Nightmares?" Olivia is surprised, both at the question and the woman asking it. There is a moment of silence as she ponders. "Sure. When I just came back from the hospital. But now the pills knock me out most of the time." She doesn't see it fitting to add that the other times are filled with dark anxiety and sleeplessness. "I suppose I'll see once the prescription runs out." Angling her head down she tries to catch the other woman's eyes, impeded by the wall of hair between them. "Are you having nightmares, Alex?"

"No." Alex shakes her head. "Yes. It's not important."

"It's important to me."

The blonde's frame tenses up. "How's your shoulder?"

"Getting better. I'd like to go back to work, but Cragen's forbidden me. Alex?"

Alex ignores her quiet plea. "When are you going back?"

"If I have my way, tomorrow, but I'm officially booked off for another three weeks. They're making me take the full time." Olivia shifts forward a little more. "Alex, we haven't talked about what happened, and I think we need to. Now." When there is no response she lifts her hand and draws her fingers through the curtain of silky hair, tucking it behind Alex's ear so that she can look at her. "It wasn't your choice, Alex. What you did back there. He set you up. You had no other option. You must know that. Don't you?"

Against her will the blonde's eyes close at the feeling of the fingers stroking through her hair. She listens to Olivia's voice, one that she always finds so serious and persuasive, but tonight the words they're saying are simply flowing over and past her. Her silence speaks volumes.

With a soft sigh Olivia shifts on the couch, trying to get more comfortable, before she brushes gently at the long blonde hair with her hand. Soothing. Trying to draw the woman out. "Alex, he told you that you had a choice, but in the end he was going to shoot me, too. Whatever you did, it wouldn't have made a difference. Can you see that? If I hadn't been there he would simply have shot Rogan and  Well, we can't speculate on the rest. He knew you couldn't pick me, Alex, because I was a friend!"

"I couldn't pick you because you were YOU!" Alex abruptly and loudly interrupts. Leaning forward she puts her face in her hands for a moment before she straightens up. The shutters are back down. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I'll just ", standing up she smoothes down her skirt with the palms of her hands, " you probably want to get to bed. I'm sorry." It's delivered in a confused flurry as she hunts for her handbag, finding it on the counter where she left it, and opens the front door. Olivia has some trouble getting up, her ribs throbbing when she pulls herself forward, and when she is finally standing they look at each other across a space the size of two small coffee tables - and the depth of the ocean.

"I don't want you to go."

"I have to go."

Their words string together, over each other, intertwined. When Olivia pauses - pure politeness - Alex takes the gap.

"Thanks for the coffee, Olivia."

For the second time, Alex Cabot turns around and simply walks away.

Olivia phones Elliot immediately.

"Elliot, what the hell is going on with Alex?"

He's in the middle of something, muttering instructions to somebody on the other side, and it takes him a moment to reply. "I can't tell you, Liv."

Still sensitive from the emotional overload of Alex Cabot she's instantly affronted. "What do you mean you can't tell me, Elliot?! Since when don't we tell each other things?"

"Hey, cool down! You forget to take your happy pills this morning?" There's a genuine note of hurt in his voice. "I'm saying I can't tell you because I can't tell you, Liv. I don't know. Is something wrong with Alex?"

Closing her eyes Olivia tries to calm herself down, knowing that she's behaving badly with a man who doesn't deserve it. "Sorry, Elliot. I didn't mean to be Why is she back at work? Shouldn't she be booked off? This is a bad thing that happened to her, Elliot. Is she even seeing somebody? Is she seeing Huang?"

Rather than trying to stave off the flurry of questions from his usually reticent partner, Stabler lets her run out of steam before he even tries to reply. "Liv, I don't know. Alex isn't that big on sharing her personal life, alright? You know this. If she's seeing George we're not entitled to know. What's this about, Liv?"

"She looks like hell, Elliot. Have you seen her?"

"Yeah." He stops to consider. "I thought she looked a bit tired, but being kidnapped and threatened at gunpoint will do that to you."

"She's " Olivia sighs and reconsiders her words a few times, " I don't know, Elliot. I don't know. She's taking strain. I know she's private and everything, but I was right there with her on this. I don't want her to think she's in it alone."

As hard as Elliot is trying he doesn't know what to say. Shrugging his shoulders to himself helplessly he clears his throat. "Look, Liv, why don't you invite her over or something? Just spend some time with her? She's still Alex Cabot, you know - you can't expect her to change overnight and spill her guts when you want her to."

"I know. It's just Elliot, she said something the other day that you know what, never mind."

"What, Liv?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. I'm just getting antsy hanging around at home."

"Don't come in until you're ready, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." He can hear in her voice that she's smiling a little. "Take care, Elliot." Ringing off she puts down the handset, keeping her hand on it for a long time before she makes her decision.

Alex Cabot looks weary to the bone, her large blue eyes glazed and heavy. She's not wearing her glasses this evening. Glancing down at the briefcase in her hand with a wry nod she shrugs her shoulders at Olivia. "Too enthusiastic. I know."

Cocking an eyebrow Olivia purses her lips. "We all know paperwork is your hobby, Alex. Your secret's out." Inclining her head she steps to the side. "C'mon in."

"Busted." With a slight smile Alex walks in and lifts her briefcase onto the counter. "Is it alright if I ?"

"Sure. It's fine there. Do you want a glass of wine?"

"I shouldn't. But I'm going to in any case. What are you drinking?"

"Californian red. Nothing extreme." Olivia notes the small lines around Alex's eyes and the slight scowl, probably indications that she has a headache. In silence she walks into the kitchen and gets out a pair of large glasses, filling them halfway with the crimson liquid before she passes one over. Standing on the other side of the counter with her hip pressed against it, Alex takes the glass with a murmur of thanks before she takes a slow cautious sip. Savoring the taste she licks her bottom lip languorously, unaware of the dark eyes taking in the motion and then glancing away awkwardly.

"That is so good."

A small moan slips from her throat and Olivia raises an eyebrow. "That good? Want to be left alone with the bottle?" Suddenly a faint flush races up her face. "Erm. That sounded bad. I didn't mean it like Um. Never mind." She shakes her head at herself.

With a low laugh Alex shakes her head too. "Detective Benson, I advise you to take the fifth before you incriminate yourself."

"I'm taking you up on that." Composing herself Olivia steps out of the small kitchen and heads for the couch. "Let's sit down, Alex." Her motion is a little awkward, her back stiff as she sinks down onto the pillows, and Alex sits down a fair distance from her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Still a bit tender."

"Why do you sound so surprised? They had to dig a bullet out of you, Olivia."

"I'm aware of that." The words are comfortable and warmly humorous. "I just don't like being laid up. I'm not good with inactivity."

Alex takes another sip of her wine, her tongue slipping out to smooth the drops of wine from her bottom lip. "Why not?"

"Nothing complicated. I'm not very good at sitting still."

"Oh." There's something behind it, something Olivia can't quite grasp, and it's only there for a moment before Alex looks away and runs her finger over the edge of the glass pensively. "So what do you do when you're not at work?"

"Well, I watch TV, or I read." Olivia shrugs and a wince crosses her face. "Now see, that I can't do just yet." Lifting a hand she rubs absentmindedly at her chest, shaking her head at Alex's look of concern. "It's okay. I tend to think I'm healing faster than I actually do. Anyway, as I was saying, low boredom threshold."

"That surprises me." Alex sips at her wine, chuckling silently as Olivia suddenly realizes that she's being sardonic. The detective's eyebrows lift in disbelief.

"Oh really, miss Cabot? A lot would surprise you about me."

The tone is faintly challenging. Looking down at the red carpet under her feet Alex wonders whether to bite.

But then again - hazards of the job - she's not at all good at leaving sleeping dogs undisturbed.

"Like what?"

A quicksilver flash of unreadable emotion flares over Olivia's face before she puts her glass on the table and turns to Alex. "For instance, that I'm not easily distracted. Alex, I want to talk about that day."

"Haven't we already done that?"

Even the irritation in her voice isn't enough to deter Olivia. "No. I asked and you said there was nothing to say."

"And there wasn't."

"You're not sleeping, Alex! You're having nightmares, you're looking like shit - sorry - and you're not willing to have one simple conversation about it!" The dark woman doesn't mean for it to be so vehement, but she's at the end of her rope and she doesn't know what to do anymore. "I was there too, Alex! I know what happened! Why can't you talk to me? Tell me about your nightmares?"
"I dream that he shoots you, mostly." It's sudden and frank and surprising. Staring into her glass Alex runs her fingers along the rim delicately. "That he doesn't get shot by Elliot. That he shoots you and your chair falls over like Rogan's did. And you're " her voice disappears in an uncontainable gasp which jerks her narrow shoulders before she can continue, "and you're lying there bleeding on the ground, and I'm tied up, and I can't reach you " another involuntary sob escapes and she almost angrily gasps through it, "and you die right before my eyes." She's not breaking down. She's holding on too tightly for that, her knuckles white around the stem of the glass and her jaw set so tightly that her cheekbones stand out in sharp relief.

With a distressed sigh Olivia shifts closer and slips her left arm around Alex's shoulder, noticing but ignoring the tension in the muscles she's stroking in the narrow strong back. "Oh, Alex, I'm right here. It could have happened, but it didn't. I'm okay. I'm okay."

"It doesn't matter."

Olivia comprehends it for the subterfuge that it is and sidesteps it. "Yes, it does, Alex. You can't keep going like this. If you can't go and see George, then at least talk to me." Her hand moves up from Alex's back to comb gently through her hair. At the motion the blue eyes close tiredly for a moment before they open again and Alex turns her head to look at Olivia. At this distance she can see the bronze lights dancing in the deep brown eyes.

"Please."

The small heartfelt word undoes Alex. Her lips compress in an attempt to maintain her composure, but on this couch with this woman she has just lost her defenses. Even as she attempts to raise them again she can feel herself leaning in, closing the gap between them and registering a slight bewilderment on Olivia's face before their lips meet.

Alex's kiss is fierce, her mouth demanding though her hands are still wrapped around her wineglass. Olivia is considering stopping her, but she knows well that the slight infatuation she has with the ADA will make that action unattainable. Tightening her hand in the soft blonde hair she moans softly into the mouth exploring hers. A tongue, stroking hers. Lips, searching, on hers. Drawing her in hotly.

When her breath runs out - it's a shorter period of time than she'd like - she pulls back, humming throatily as Alex's face moves with hers, unwilling to let go.

"Alex."

The blonde blinks twice, quickly, before she sits back and brushes embarrassedly at her skirt with one hand, lifts the other to take a sip of wine and then decides against it. Her motions are unsure and erratic. "I'm  "

"Hey," Olivia smiles tentatively, "it's okay." A little uncertainly she shifts her hand from Alex's hair, dropping it onto the narrow shoulder before she finally moves it to the back of the couch. "Being scared makes us do weird things, Alex. It's okay."

"It's not about being scared, Olivia." When the ADA looks up, for the first time her eyes are still. "It's about you. It's about how I felt when that man pointed the gun at your head. About how I felt when I thought you were going to die. I'm sorry if you don't feel the same way about me. And I apologize for springing it on you like this. I just wanted to  wanted to check that you were breathing, I suppose. I don't know what else to say."

"Oh." To see detective Benson silent is not a new thing, but to see her without words is.

Lifting an elegant hand Alex tucks her hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry, Liv. I didn't mean to " She starts to rise when Olivia's strong square hand lands on her thigh and beckons her back down.

"Wait."

Reaching for her glass Olivia takes a quick sip, her eyes fixed on the carpet at her feet. When she glances at Alex her face is indecisive, but her tone is clear. "Don't run away from me. Please. I need time to think about what just happened, later, but right now I want you to stay. Okay?"

"I don't think I should." Getting to her feet Alex finds herself blocked by the rising detective.

"Alex" and then Olivia leans in with the sweetest kiss. Her mouth is warm and welcoming and as gentle as Alex never thought the detective would be. Sinking into the sensation the blonde lifts one hand and threads it through the short dark hair, closing her blue eyes in something akin to pleasurable pain. Her other hand lifts by itself, drapes over Olivia's hip, hooks itself in the waistband of her jeans.

The feeling of the detective's breath warm against her mouth is driving Alex to distraction. She has no idea what she's doing, and, considering that she's the one who started it, she doesn't want to be the one to stop. Her movements become more insistent, drawing passion from the woman pressed to her, and under her ministrations Olivia sinks against her, willingly helpless. It's changed now, the dynamic, the blonde surging forward and the brunette simply taking it all in.

Unhooking her fingers from the waistband of Olivia's jeans Alex runs her hand up the dark woman's side, careful not to jar her still sensitive ribs, and then over her back. Her touch is careful, wondering, and then suddenly possessive as she pulls Olivia into her. Feeling the abrupt desperation in the grip, the tensing of the fingers drawing her closer, the warmth of tears on Alex's cheek as their faces push together, Olivia hums soothingly in her throat.
Hey, I have you.
The result is unexpected; a surge of fervor from Alex when she draws Olivia even closer, her mouth fraught and unrelenting. Her arm curls around Olivia's shoulder and tightens, and as much as the detective does not want the pain to interfere with this urgently overwrought moment, it explodes down her chest and forces her to pull back, take a sharp gasping breath.

"Ah. Alex"

And just as suddenly the ADA pushes backwards, her hands releasing Olivia with such force that she's almost pushing her away.

"Oh, god "

Her pupils are dilated, shocked, her mouth is open and her breath coming in short exhalations. Pressing her fingers to her lips she stares at Olivia, catapulted from the edge of vulnerability.

"I didn't mean to hurt you"

"It's okay, Alex. I'm okay." Holding out a hand Olivia wills the skittish woman to take it with a pleading glance. "Alex. If you break, I'm going to be right here to catch you. Do you hear me?"

The blonde looks at the offered hand, then up at the solid composed face above it. Her blue eyes widen, and then, abruptly, visibly, her shutters are down. Stepping past Olivia she reaches for her briefcase, ignoring the soft request from behind her.

"I have to go."

She doesn't understand. She sits at her customary windowsill, watching the world go by as she has always done, but now there's Alex at the back of her mind, whispering, and she can't hear what's being said. She tries to think of the kiss by itself, but it skitters off in the memory of the woman pulling from her arms. She tries to think of the woman pulling from her arms by itself, but it skitters off in the memory of the feeling of hot tears, not her own, on her cheeks. She tries to think of the memory of hot tears, not her own, on her cheeks by itself, but it skitters off in the memory of the kiss. And so it goes. Around and around. All of the thoughts are connected, but none of them are, and early in the morning she is exhausted and still as unenlightened as ever.

She tries to call Alex, but the answering machine picks up. "Hi, this is Alexandra Cabot, I'm not in at the "

When did she kiss Alex Cabot and become an anxious wreck? When did she start seeing cracks in that perfect veneer? When did she start wanting so badly to fix them? When did solitude change into space for one more person? When?

And what can't Alex let go?

Elliot drops by. He finds Olivia in a corner of her couch, brooding, a bottle of beer clasped in her hand. Her dark eyes nod a greeting and return to staring at absolutely nothing. For someone who's been badly injured recently, she looks great. For someone who's been on leave for more than a week, she looks terrible. She's not been sleeping, he can see that in her eyes, and he throws out a casual query over his shoulder as he helps himself to a bottle from the fridge.

"I'm fine." Her voice brooks no disagreement, but he's her partner, and he doesn't take hints as well as he should.

"You look like shit, Liv." It's delivered with something almost like delight as he sinks into the other side of the couch and shifts his torso so that he can watch her. She looks up at him briefly and fights back a very rude answer. Decides on a sarcastic one.

"I'm sorry, should I have powdered the bullet hole in my chest?"

Elliot's not bothered. Taking a long sip of the cold beer he sits forward and rests his forearms on his thighs. "So."

"So?" She cocks her head at him belligerently.

"God, Liv, you're practically radiating irritation. What kind of pills they have you on?"

Pursing her lips she heaves a sigh. "Elliot, if you've just come here to annoy me then you're done."

"Fuck, Liv, since when do I need an appointment to care about you?" He wipes one hand over his head and takes another sip from the bottle. "Can you step out of this goddamned mood for just one second to talk to me about it?"

She wants to snap at him, chase him away with the words she knows she can choose effortlessly, but he's so solid and familiar, his blue eyes so warm when he looks at her, that she can't do anything like that at all. Sighing, she begins to niggle at the corner of the label on her bottle with a fingernail.

"Alex. She's not doing well."

"And?" He cocks his head. "What's the problem?"

"I don't know. If I did I'd be able to do  something. But I don't know."

"Can I ask you something, Liv?" He means she's going to be upset. "Why do you care? I mean, I know that Alex is a friend of yours, and that you went through this major traumatic thing together but you guys have never been that close. So what's the big issue?"

"Because I was there, Elliot." She shakes her head at herself, some inner turmoil going on. "Because I'm the only one who understands what happened."

"I know what happened, Liv. We know."

"That's right." Olivia fixes him with those fathomless eyes. "You know. But I understand. It's something completely different."

"You know what, Liv?" Sitting forward Elliot puts down his bottle. "This is actually quite ironic." A small amused smile curls around his lips, and he tries to hide it, but he's not good at hiding things from her. In irritation she slams the bottle down on the table. Hard.

"What, Elliot? Are you laughing at me?"

"No, Liv." But he is. "At least, I'm trying not to. It's just kind of funny, okay?"

"No, not okay. I don't see the humor. Why don't you enlighten me?"

"Well." Trying to get his smile under control he purses his lips before he continues. "You want Alex to be fragile." Seeing Olivia's interruption coming a mile away he corrects himself. "Fine. It's all semantics, but let's say vulnerable. You want her to open herself to you. Make herself vulnerable. Right?"

She feels like being difficult out of principle, but smothers the urge. And smothers the urge to smother him, too. "Fine. If you want to put it that way." She's trying to convey that she doesn't care, but he sees right through her. At the moment she's hating that.

"So?" The big man shakes his head in amusement. "Ever heard the saying 'do as I say, and not as I do'? You're Olivia Benson, superwoman who never admits to anything. Look at you, Liv. You probably can't move without feeling it, but you turn away offers of help like we're trying to corrupt you."

"What is your point, Elliot? Do you have one?"

"You want her to be breakable, Olivia, when all along you've been telling her there's something wrong with being vulnerable."

Olivia scowls fiercely, her dark eyes frustrated. "You're talking garbage. There is nothing wrong with being vulnerable, Elliot."

"Oh?" He cocks his head. "Then why are you fighting against it every day?"

"I'm not fighting anything!" Her jaw muscles bunch as she grinds her teeth against the irritation. "I shouldn't have to be anything I don't want to."

"And if you wanted to?" Gently he puts a hand on her knee. "Would you share with the one person you imagine would think you weak for doing so?"

Olivia looks away from him, her profile stony.

"Liv. She's so much like you. Alex Cabot is unbreakable. If you want that to change, I suggest you try showing just a little fragility yourself."

Leaning forward without a word Olivia picks up her bottle and takes a long thoughtful sip from it. Swallowing, she presses the cool surface against her forehead for a moment.

"When did you get so sensitive and metrosexual on my ass, Stabler?"

"I live with a lot of women, Benson." He grins. "Say it with me. Elliot is always right."

Olivia phones Alex three times. On the first two occasions Alex refuses politely, but on the third she hesitantly agrees to visit.

When she reaches the detective's front door she finds it open. Inside Olivia is in the small kitchen, making filter coffee. Her shoulder and chest are not bandaged anymore, but underneath the black v-neck of the shirt that she is wearing a corner of pure white plaster peeks out. Her right arm is out of its sling, the movements stilted and careful. Peeking over her shoulder Olivia smiles at her guest, who is uncertainly standing at the counter, and inclines her head towards the living room.

"Hey. Sit down. I'm almost done." But Alex is only halfway there before Olivia's voice calls her back. "Sorry, Alex, can you help here? I'm not going to be able to carry the tray."

Bemusedly the blonde returns to take it, loaded with coffee and biscotti, to the living room. Olivia follows her and sinks into her usual corner of the couch, her liquid brown eyes crinkling at the ADA.

"How are you?"

Alex smiles a little grimly. She's exhausted and she knows she looks it. Now only to decide whether she admits to it or lies blatantly. "Working too hard." As she settles for in-between she realizes that she's echoing the words Olivia said to her what felt like years ago.

The detective nods, taking in the blonde's drained appearance. "Okay, Alex."

Her indulgent tone brings an immediately annoyed frown to the ADA's forehead. "What, Olivia?"

The dark detective shrugs in a non-committal manner. "You're probably not sleeping."

"Olivia." Alex sits forward and thumps the coffee cup down on the table. "We've talked about this before - and if you've invited me over to go on niggling about it then this visit is over."

More or less unperturbed Olivia lifts her cup and sips from it slowly before she speaks. "No, I'm not going to go on niggling about it. I'd just prefer if you didn't lie to me, Alex. Now calm down and drink your coffee."

There's something in her tone, something that Alex doesn't quite recognize, and with a frown the ADA picks up her cup and sips from it, her blue eyes watching Olivia warily over the rim. Catching the glance Olivia smiles a little.

"Relax, please, Alex. I just wanted to see you. Nothing sinister."

There is silence for a while as the two women, each sitting in their respective corners of the couch, drink the warm strong liquid quietly. Alex is still studying Olivia circumspectly, and when she realizes that the dark woman is making no move to talk Alex's gaze softens just a bit. She takes in the faint lines of strain around Olivia's dark eyes - eyes which have always fascinated her with their depth - and the too-languid way in which the detective is blinking.

"How's your shoulder?"

Olivia looks up, slightly bemused. "It's " Oddly she stops to think before she completes the sentence. "It's tender. Between that and the ribs it gets pretty uncomfortable to sleep."

"And the pain pills?"

Shaking her head the detective looks down, a slightly self-conscious curve to her lips. "I don't like messing around with addictive things."

Alex frowns, her blue eyes pensive as she studies Olivia. "Even if they're prescribed?"

"My family history's not reliable like that." With a self-deprecating shrug the detective flashes a smile. "How about another cup of coffee?"

"Sure. Thanks." Holding out her cup Alex watches as Olivia gets up, wincing a little, and disappears into the kitchen. The detective's voice drifts out.

"How are things at work?"

The ADA leans back into the couch and yawns. "As usual. Trying to take down the scum. I suppose you heard that O'Meara's two goons both got indicted?"

"Yeah." Olivia doesn't say anything else, and when she comes back into the living room carrying the cups her gaze doesn't meet Alex's. Taking her coffee the ADA cocks her head.

"Olivia?"

The detective doesn't respond for a moment, and then lifts her eyes. "Yeah?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." A frown knots Olivia's forehead. "I hate remembering their faces so clearly. It's like they were just these small-time scumbags and I" She shrugs half-heartedly. "Never mind. I don't know what I'm trying to say."

Putting down her cup Alex reaches out a hand and lays it warmly on Olivia's arm. "I understand, Liv. It feels as if they should be something minor you can just shake off."

The detective's dark eyes lift to her own. "Do you feel like that, Alex?"

"A little." With a light pat to Olivia's arm the blonde pulls back and reaches for her cup again. "For a while I thought that if O'Meara was dead I'd be able to put it behind me."

"And can you?"

"I think you can answer that." Blue eyes meet brown ones in silence. It's Olivia who looks away first, down to where her hand is reaching for the television remote.

"Do you mind if I watch the news?"

Aware of the discomfort in the detective's demeanor Alex acquiesces. "Sure."

They watch in silence, letting the images roll over them, and when the ADA gets up halfway through, Olivia's dark eyes only flicker to her for a moment.

Standing in the small bathroom Alex leans forward and presses her forehead to the cool mirror. She feels unsettled tonight, unsure of herself for no reason she can fathom. Olivia has been unusually forthcoming in certain regards, and then in others locks herself down so tightly that she becomes completely unreachable. Alex isn't sure whether she wants to lean in and kiss that well-shaped mouth again, to soothe the hurt showing so obviously tonight, or to back as far away as she can to save her sanity. She can feel her own grip slipping. It is harder to be resolute when those dark eyes so suddenly open to let her in.

She stays in there for a while, splashes her face, drinks some water, and to her own mortification finds it impossible to resist sniffing Olivia's deodorant furtively. Coming out she walks down the short hallway, ready to apologize lightly, and finds Olivia slumped to one side, her eyes closed and her breathing deep. Standing in the hallway Alex glances at the sleeping figure, and then at the front door. She's torn between simply walking out and leaving Olivia to sleep, and sitting down to spend just one more hour watching the dark woman's face, not worrying about what will be said and heard. In her mind Olivia's face is irrevocable connected to the jumping of her heart that day in the factory; the dark eyes remind her of impending disaster every time they glance at her. She feels as if she is losing Olivia Benson every time she sees her.

With one last rueful look at the door she slips onto the couch, into the furthest corner, and props her face up in one hand. Her blue eyes traverse the elegant planes of the detective's face, the delicate cheekbones, the vulnerable mouth. She watched Olivia until she almost drifts off herself. Reaching out a hand she halts its movement just shy of the slender one curled on the cushion beside the jeans-clad leg.

"NO!"

It's an indeterminable time later, and Alex jerks upright, struggling in those first few foggy moments to understand whether it's Olivia's nightmare, or her own, that has woken her. Blinking blearily she looks over to find the detective slumped forward, her head on her forearms and her shoulders shaking.

"Olivia?"

Shifting closer hesitantly she reaches out a hand, placing it tentatively on the warm back.

"Liv?"

Under the soft soothing motions of her fingers the detective's breath evens out slowly, until Olivia lifts her head. Her dark eyes are wet.

"Alex."

"Yeah. I'm here." Moving in Alex puts her arms around Olivia and pulls the dark woman into her body. "What's going on?"

"Nightmare." It's supposed to be a casual comment, but halfway through the word Olivia runs out of breath and sobs softly.

"Oh, sweetheart." Gently Alex runs her fingers through Olivia's hair and kisses her temple. "Want to talk about it?"

"No." It's said so quickly, and then the detective leans into the blonde's willowy body and sighs. "Yeah. In my dream O'Meara points the gun at my head, " she feels the slight tremor In Alex's body, "and then he shoots you instead. And I'm tied up, so I can't get to you." She lets loose a half-hearted self-deprecating chuckle. "Not a lot of detail. And not very original as far as nightmares go."

"No, it's not." Alex's voice is soft. "I'm having a variation of it. How dull we both are."

"Rather dull than dead, I suppose." Olivia's voice is so soft that the comment almost fades into nothingness. Pulling away from Alex's embrace the detective gets up, pressing her good arm against her side protectively. "I could do with something strong. You?" At Alex's nod she disappears into the kitchen, to reappear with two snifters filled almost halfway with something Alex guesses to be whiskey.

"Here."

"Thanks." Taking a sip Alex steels herself against the burn she knows is coming, and watches with quiet care as Olivia lowers herself onto the couch. Leaning back against the pillows the dark woman sips from her glass and closes her eyes in appreciation.

"Mmmm."

To Alex's embarrassment she can't control the flush that rises in her face at the detective's low throaty hum of appreciation, nor can she contain the jolt that shoots through her lower body. Looking away she takes another deeper pull at her glass, her jaw clenching as the fiery liquid slides down her throat, warming up as it settles. When she glances back Olivia's eyes are still closed. Almost as if planned, the detective licks her lips languidly before she turns her head and unexpectedly catches Alex in her gaze. Fixing her dark eyes on the unusual flush tingeing the delicate woman's cheekbones she frowns.

"Alex? Something wrong?"

The ADA shakes her head once, twice, the strands of blonde hair falling over her forehead, but when she looks up her eyes are filled with such naked need that Olivia's breath catches. Reaching out blindly the detective slides her glass onto the table so roughly that it topples and drops off the edge with a dull thunk, the whiskey splashing over the dark carpet. Alex shifts forward instinctively to pick up the fallen glass, but finds herself face to face with Olivia. Taking the blonde's own glass from her hand the dark woman puts it onto the table without looking, a little more accurately this time, her brown eyes never wavering from Alex's. At this close proximity she can hear the ADA swallow nervously.

"Olivia "

"Don't." The dark eyes bore into her. "Don't tell me you have to leave."

Alex's eyes aren't wavering either. "That's not it."

"Then what?"

"Kiss me, Liv, damn it."

Without another word Olivia surges forward and captures Alex's full lips, her hands reaching up to wrap high around the back of the graceful neck. Tangling her fingers in the long blonde hair she kisses Alex fiercely, wondering if the ADA will pull back, and is answered in a breathtaking fashion by the ferocious response from the woman in front of her. One hand slips to the back of Olivia's head to pull her closer desperately as the other drops down to her lower back and forces her nearer. When their legs intertwine Olivia pushes gently but firmly, maneuvering Alex onto her back. Her denim-clad thigh slips between the ADA's bare thighs, and Alex arches her back into the sensation.

Whatever Olivia had once thought sex with Alex Cabot would be like, it is nothing resembling this. The blonde's hands are everywhere; stroking, touching, clenching, all with an air of wild desperation. Her long fingers trace down Olivia's neck, over her uninjured shoulder and collarbone into the hollow at the base of her neck, and at the searing intimate touch the detective swallows convulsively. Alex's hand slips down Olivia's ribs, the touch feather light, and finds the gap between her shirt and jeans. Her fingers dip below the hem of the black cotton, find the warm skin beneath, teases slightly before her nails rake the detective's lower back and the dark woman releases a low hissing groan.

Unused to not being the instigator, uncomfortable relegated to the passive, Olivia responds with a fierceness she has not felt for a long time. Her mouth plunders Alex's, her lips demanding entrance and taking it all at once. Their tongues clash, each wanting to dominate, and teeth scrape lightly over soft surfaces, leaving almost-bruised skin in their wake. Her square workman-like hand moves from the delicate arched neck, palm dragging over Alex's shoulder, her small tight breast under the stiff linen of her jacket, her rigid nipple, down over her stomach, her ribcage. Finally curling around the juncture between hip and thigh to pull the blonde's long body into hers.

When Alex's body rocks up into hers the first time a groan escapes Olivia's throat. Whatever Olivia had once thought sex with Alex Cabot would be like, it is nothing like this. And everything like it. The pelvis pressing up into hers sets a fire burning low in her. Sliding her hand down to the slender knee she lifts the blonde's leg and presses her thigh more securely against Alex's center, her movement pushing the ADA's skirt high onto her thighs. Rocking against the sudden pressure Alex exhales, a long shuddering sound, and slips her hand into Olivia's waistband at the small of her back, her fingers kneading the pliable flesh beneath them.

Tightening the muscles in her thighs Olivia starts a slow thrusting motion, matching it with a thorough rhythmical kiss that has Alex moaning into her mouth as the blonde's body begins to thrust with hers involuntarily. When the detective's hand suddenly slips up from her leg to her inner thigh, stroking over the hot wetness between her legs without preamble, Alex lets out a gasp that is swallowed by Olivia's lips. The detective's fingers smoothly probe through the soaked lace to the swollen mound below, and then start a slow stroking motion over the hard round nub beneath the material. She smiles against Alex's lips as she feels the blonde beginning to tremble under her, the thigh tensing and flexing spasmodically.

"Alex? About to come already?"

It's a low throaty question, and Alex groans before she opens her eyes, the incredible blue hazy.

"Oh god. Don't gloat, Benson." As the fingers at her core reduce their movement she thrusts her hips upward. "And don't tease."

Arching an eyebrow Olivia slowly pulls away her hand, making sure to draw her fingers over Alex's sensitive clit. Her gaze is intense. "I've waited for you for ever, Alex. I want to feel your skin against mine. I want to hear you groaning my name. I want to remember every sound, and scent, and flavor  That's what I want."

The blue eyes hold hers steadfastly. "Then you'd better get going, Benson. Right now I could come from the sound of your voice alone."

Clenching her jaw against the wave of passion threatening to engulf her Olivia pushes herself up from the couch, looking down at Alex's sprawled and disheveled appearance. Her dark eyes widen when she glances down to where the blonde's skirt has ridden up her thighs, exposing her legs, and without a word she extends a hand and pulls the ADA up. A slight hiss slips from her lips at the jarring of her shoulder, but she brushes it aside and leads the blonde to her bedroom, the wooden floors creaking under their feet as they make their way.

When they are standing at the foot of Olivia's bed Alex glances down and, realizing that her skirt has shifted up indecently high, reaches with her free hand to smooth it down. Before she can touch it she is intercepted by Olivia's hand, the fingers wrapping around her own to pull her hand away.

"Don't."

It is not a command, but a request, and the admiration in the detective's eyes as she appraises Alex's bared legs leaves the blonde flushing and pleased. They move together again, more controlled this time, but no less fevered, and collapse onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. At Olivia's pained groan Alex shifts away, suddenly unsure, her gaze locked onto the detective's hand now protectively curved over her wound.

"Olivia. I'm sorry. This isn't the best You're still injured "

Giving the site one last rub Olivia reaches out and pulls the uncertain blonde to her fiercely.

"Fuck that."

"Why, detective Benson," the ADA smiles against Olivia's searching lips, "are the boys teaching you bad words?"

"Hell no. I taught them all they know." Olivia fiddles with the buttons of Alex's jacket. "Help a poor invalid out here, Cabot. The first part of your title isn't 'assistant' for nothing."

With a trace of shyness about her curving lips Alex sits up and shrugs off her suit jacket. "I'm always glad to oblige my favorite detective."

"Don't mess with my head." Olivia runs a hand over the silk shirt, humming low in her throat as a nipple springs to attention under her fingers. "You always loved Fin more."

Shifting forward Alex covers the detective's body with hers. "Shut up, Liv." Her mouth claims Olivia's fiercely, and the heat between them rises again, slowly and inexorably. Slipping her hand down Alex's side Olivia strokes her hip, then her thigh, and when her hand cups around Alex's sex the blonde jerks onto her fingers with a soft exclamation. Olivia's long digits caress her with small circular motions over the wet lace, and breath leaves the blonde in a loud hiss when the dark woman abruptly slips the material aside and drags two fingers from her soaking hot entrance to her engorged clit.

"Olivia "

It's more a breath than a word. Humming a feeling she has no name for yet the detective slides her fingers back down the slick silken groove and pushes them gradually into the blonde's welcoming body. With a groan Alex sinks down onto her hand, internal muscles clutching at her, and her mouth pauses on Olivia's as she closes her eyes and groans.
Levering their bodies around so that she is above Alex, Olivia leans forward and bestows a deep gentle kiss onto the parted lips as her hand begins to set an aching pace between the spread thighs under her. The ADA is as Olivia has never seen her; all control abandoned, her head thrown back, her body open and uninhibited. Lifting her long legs she wraps them around the detective's hips and rocks against the thrusting limb, her mouth blindly locking onto Olivia's neck. The shuddering exhalations roll down the detective's spine and curl into waves of desire low in her gut.

When Olivia suddenly withdraws her hand Alex groans sweetly in the back of her throat, her disappointment clear as she arches up her body searching for touch. Her hands are tangled in the back of the detective's black shirt, and Olivia has to run her hands up Alex's arms, forcing them above the blonde head, before she can shift in the embrace.

"Patience, sweetheart," she answers Alex's incoherent question before she slides down to unbutton the silk shirt and unhook the bra clasp at the valley of the blonde's cleavage. With hungry eyes she devours the landscape revealed to her before she plants a kiss on the smooth skin on the sternum, then small fluttery kisses on the firm breasts. When her mouth hovers above the rosy nipple Alex surges up under her, breath ragged, and it is all Olivia can do not to simply take the blonde right there and then. Abandoning the slowness she roughly pulls the taut nipple into her mouth, rolling her tongue around the hard nub insistently until Alex bucks beneath her, hands straining down towards her lover. Mercilessly Olivia gives the other nipple the same treatment, and when she draws her mouth away with a light nip the blonde beneath her exhales explosively.

"Olivia please. "

There's a thickness to Alex's voice, something Olivia almost doesn't catch, and when she looks up the blonde woman is crying. It's quiet, the way Olivia has always thought the ADA would. In alarm Olivia slides upwards over the warm skin, her brows drawn together in concern, but before she can reach Alex's face, before she can put her strong square hand against the pale cheek, the blonde's fingers are at her shoulders, pressing her down gently but firmly.

"Sweetheart " the word dies in Olivia's mouth.

"Liv."

Wrapping her left arm around the lean - now too lean - thigh, ignoring the ache in her right shoulder, the detective lowers her mouth to the waiting heat beneath her and tries to convey the things she struggles to find words for. Her lips caress, draw in, her tongue dips, flutters. It is impossible to hold back anymore, and she hardly cares when the tears silently pooling in her eyes spill and run down her face, run over the skin underneath her mouth, leave hot trails down the inside crease of the blonde's hips. Above her Alex pauses and then strains upward; some breathless moans, some unrestrained sobs, and her pleasure knits into her grief until she is weeping and shaking indeterminately. Unwrapping her left hand from the silky inner thigh Olivia reaches up, past the trembling hip, and finds her fingers grasped, intertwined between Alex's. The ADA's hand is tight around hers, so tight that she has to flex the corded muscles in her forearm at an attempt for relief, and she begins to wonder who exactly is soothing who.

There is no real question of what will happen next. With a sudden jerk the blonde arches off the bed, and she is wailing. Her normally cool low voice is raw, Olivia's name mingling with release, and between the moaning and the sobs she's gasping for breath as if she'll never have air in her lungs again.

Cupping Alex's spasming groin protectively with one hand Olivia moves up and wraps herself around the helpless woman, murmuring irrelevant words as she leans close to hold the bleak blue eyes with her gaze. Turning her blonde head this way and that Alex tries weakly to avoid her, but Olivia moves with her, keeps her safely locked in those dark eyes, until all she can do is to look back and wait for her breath to stop quivering.

They lie silently, closely, for a long moment before Alex speaks. Her words are so soft and low that Olivia has to lean closer and cock her head slightly to catch them.

"Are you scared?"

Unsure, the detective leans back to look at the blonde with an inquiring frown. "Scared of what, Alex? The memories? Is that what you're asking?"

With a slight nod the ADA looks away, and suddenly twists out from under the other woman. Rolling over she presents her narrow back to Olivia. "That too, I suppose."

"That too?" Resisting the urge to take Alex in her arms Olivia lays a light hand on the curved hip, careful not to get too close. "I get the nightmares all the time, Alex. I told you. Does it bother you that you can't forget?"

"No. The nightmares  they come with the territory, right?. I don't think I'd be human if I could just  in any case. It would probably be better if I had somebody next to me at night."

It's said offhandedly, no trace of a hint, and Olivia takes care not to make any promises that could hurt either of them later. "I'm sure you would. What scares you, Alex?"

"Spiders, germs, guns " Alex doesn't stall. Ever. She either simply ignores the question or moves towards it at her own inexorable speed. "Not having control. Not knowing."

There is a long silence, and Olivia is about to prompt her when Alex suddenly rolls over and looks at her bluntly.

"After  it happened, I'm waking up crying at night, thinking you've died, and every time I'm fighting to stop myself from picking up the phone just to hear you on the other side. I'm thinking you probably wouldn't appreciate it if I phoned you at 3 in the morning because somewhere deep inside in some ridiculous place I'm hoping that you sleep better than I do. Or at least that the pills kick you out into a peaceful place for a little while each night. Then I'm sitting on your couch looking at you and I'm staring at the things I see every night in every dream; your eyes, your chin, your mouth and every time you talk I can't seem to keep my eyes off your lips. I wonder if I can kiss you to make sure you're breathing. If I can put my hands over your chest just to feel it rise." Lifting her hands Alex places them gently on Olivia's chest, her fingers splaying out. "I want you to touch me so that I know you're alive, Liv, and I can't tell whether there's anything beyond that. I don't want to use you, but I don't know if this will be enough right now. I can't guarantee that I won't want to call you tomorrow night, or that I won't want to come over tomorrow and make you touch me again. And I can't stand to feel like this, Olivia."

Closing her dark eyes Olivia frowns. "You don't know whether you want me or just the comfort of me."

"I'm sorry." Alex's long fingers curl against the black shirt. "I don't want you to think ... Liv, I want you to understand. I don't want to lie to you."

"And once I'm done soothing the nightmares you walk away?" Prying Alex's hands from her chest Olivia rolls over to perch on the side of the bed, her face hidden by the shadows as she looks away. "I don't know if I can do that."

"I don't want you to." With slow hands the blonde slides her skirt back down, smoothes her impossibly crumpled silk shirt down fruitlessly. "I want you to walk away if you need to. Or I want you to stay, but know what you're in for."

"Alex " It's not much more than a tortured breath into Olivia's hands, pressed against her forehead, and without thinking the ADA shifts closer and wraps her arms around the dark woman from behind, holding her tightly.

"Liv. Don't pull away. Please. I've told you what I feel. I'm completely open here, I'm not used to it - I need you to meet me halfway."

The blonde can feel the body underneath her shift as Olivia chuckles without much humor. "You've told me you're not sure what you feel. I'm sure what I'm feeling. Is there much more to say?"

Alex's arms tighten around Olivia's body. "I've always admired that about you. You're always so sure about everything." She lays her forehead against the strong back. "I admire many things about you, Olivia. And I want to be here, with you, right now."

"But not for ever."

"I didn't say that." The blonde's hands gently stroke the tense muscles below them. "I just might love you, Liv. I really want to stay and find out. But I don't want to say that out loud, just in case  Olivia, you need to tell me whether you want to walk away."

The dark woman turns her head into the darkness, but from the movement of her back Alex can tell that she is crying. From grief or frustration the blonde doesn't understand yet.

"Alex." One hand lifts to cover and grasp the ADA's. "What are the odds that I can ever walk away from you?"

Elliot answers his phone on the second ring.

"Liv. You okay?"

"No." He can tell she's smiling that tiny smile simply from the sound of her voice. "Cap tell you I'm finally taking some leave?"

"Yep. Incidentally I heard from reliable sources that ADA Alexandra Cabot has taken leave at exactly the same time."

"Hmm. Fancy that." She's quiet. She knows just how to yank his chain.

"So, where're you going?"

"Hawaii. Figure it was time to lay around on the beach and sip margaritas."

"Sounds too good for you. I'm jealous." Elliot clears his throat and then decides just to go ahead and ask. "Liv, are things okay with Alex?"

Her chuckle is warm. "I'll tell you in three weeks. Bye, Elliot."

Before the phone dies in his ear he can swear he hears Alex Cabot murmuring indistinctly - and unusually affectionately - on the other side.

THE END

K. Alexander's Scrolls
Main Page

~ Unbreakable ~
by K. Alexander

DISCLAIMER Some of these people belong to me, but others don't. No infringement intended.

WARNING I'm not going to warn you about the lesbian relationship or gay sex in this fanfic. If you have a problem with that kind of thing and you're still trawling this site your problem is bigger than I can help you with. Instead I'm going to warn you about masses of angst, hurt, comfort, and a general overload of schlock psychology. This story is character-driven rather than otherwise, which means the plot won't dumbfound you with its complexity, but the continual conversations and inner musing might. If you don't like that, you've been warned. I take no responsible for bouts of crying induced by pure irritation.

COMMENTS Please note that while I have watched and loved this show, I'm by no means a seasoned enough television watcher to be totally sure of my correctness with the canon. I am, though, a big enough person to accept criticism on it. Glaring mistakes? Total delight? Find me at kalexy@webmail.co.za

AND FINALLY This will probably be the only actual fanfic I'll write. The story oddly came to me in one of those pesky dreams, and I just had to write it down. If melodrama pains you I apologize in advance

Detective Olivia Benson's dark features tighten immediately as she walks into the station and catches sight of the cameras, the foreign equipment, and the sound engineer sitting quietly in one corner with a pair of headphones on his head. The Director of Photography glances at her once, then again in the span of a few seconds, the man's pale blue eyes candidly appreciative and speculative before he leans towards the short man sitting next to him for a few quiet words.

Detective Elliot Stabler can't help a small reluctant smile from creeping onto his lips. He takes a strange sort of pride in his partner, though he will never admit to it, and though he usually hides it behind playful banter if she notices him grinning like a cat that got the cream. It's this same pride that had him straightening the haphazard pile of paperwork on her desk when he came in this morning. From its rapidly diminishing size he can tell that she's been up late again, sorting through mountains of evidence for that one elusive detail that would nail this case shut. If he were to ask she'd deny having been hunched over her desk in this room until much too late in the night, but she's been on edge ever since they found the first piece of evidence putting the esteemed Father Jeremy Rogan and a veritable host of very under-age choirboys in the same place at the wrong time.

Abuse gets to her on a level that she doesn't share; a level that drives her too hard and keeps her up at night, that pushes her too far and leaves her dark and remote. She told him about her mother once, about the rape and the subsequent neglect and the sometimes ache of broken bones, and for a moment there Elliot thought he'd been let into that place nobody ever saw - until her dark eyes, up until that point fixed to his in the way that made you feel she took in nothing else but you, shifted away and didn't stop moving again. He knew then that the words, while illuminating in themselves, meant nothing when measured against the things she didn't say. As close as he is to her, and he is perhaps the closest person to her, he understands that there is a piece of Olivia which he cannot push to have. It is that part of her that almost embarrasses her fellow officers when it slips - the part that compelled them to leave her alone last week with one of the boys, when he (perhaps recognizing a kindred spirit) broke down at Olivia's gentle questions. Wrapping her arms around his collapsing lanky young-boy frame she shot a fiercely protective glare towards the men, nearly unthinkingly, but it was the vulnerability lurking behind the depths that chased them away rather than the façade of strength.

Now she is at the door, that same shifting glance that he knows so well picking out the unfamiliar elements in the room as she makes her way across to him. In her familiar leather jacket and black sweater she is all attitude, ignoring the appreciative glances from the strangers.

"Elliot. What's going on?"

Her eyes flicker to the boom swinger, a tall young guy incessantly chewing gum, his large padded earphones skew on his head, and Elliot's eyes follow invariably.

"You're not going to like it, Liv." It's said solemnly, but Elliot's blue eyes twinkle and somehow Olivia knows he's enjoying it way too much. Whatever it is, it's going to piss her off and he knows it. And he likes it. Folding her arms she sighs.

"Out with it, Elliot."

"We're about to turn into a feature on 'Behind the Badge'."

Midway through a perusal of the rest of the room her dark head snaps back, her eyes fastening on his with skepticism. "Nu uh. Pull the other one, Stabler."

"I'm not pulling anything, Liv. You'd kick my ass." He inclines his broad jaw towards a short man sitting in a folding chair in the middle of nowhere, a sheaf of papers spread out on his lap. "Meet the director, mister Trevor Weenan." As if on cue Weenan's eyes lift and he takes in the two dark detectives peering at him before he raises an impish eyebrow and winks insolently.

Olivia's eyebrows immediately rise in answer and her lower lip drops into that 'I'm containing myself" pout. "He'd better be winking at you, Elliot. Tell me he's winking at you."

"Somehow I doubt it." Elliot turns his head to look her up and down, from her neatly brushed dark brown hair to her unassuming comfortable leather shoes. "If you don't want the attention then don't dress like a vamp."

That gets a small smile from her, and also earns him a smack to the arm. "Shut up, Stabler." She glances over her shoulder at the office behind them. "Where's cap? Don't tell me he okayed this?"

Rubbing at his upper arm with a wounded expression he shakes his head. "Somehow I don't think dad had a say in this, Liv. He was a little strained when they first came in. Looks like it came from upstairs, and I suppose if they finance they get to choose where to advertise." His eyes are suddenly serious when he glances back at her. "I just hope this doesn't screw up what we're working on."

"How is that not going to happen, Elliot?" She tries not to take her impending frustration out on her partner, but it still creeps through in her voice. ""We're so close - if our information leaks we're back to square one!"

"Yeah, I know." He leans closer to grip her arm, but the knowledge of the director's eyes on them leads him to just touch her lightly. The emphasis, however, is clear is in his eyes. "We'll make it happen, Liv. We'll sort it out. Don't worry. Let Munch and Fin take the brunt of it. If only you weren't such damned  eye candy."

Laughing out loud at his casual comment and waggishly raised eyebrows Olivia shakes her head helplessly. "Eye candy, Stabler? Did you watch too much MTV last night?"

"With four kids I watch what's on." He shrugs. "Besides, Maureen's trying to  well, she calls it educate  me. Apparently her old man's a stick-in-the-mud."

"Hah. And with 'old man' you went right back into it." Though her tone is light her eyes aren't, and Elliot knows she's finished joking. "Where is Cragen?"

"He went down to the ADA's office for a little chat. I'm sure he'll be back soon."

As they're speaking Fin comes strolling through the door, all rough and tough and ready to roll. He's probably been in before, Olivia notes, because he barely spares the crew a glance as he approaches them - and if he hadn't seen them yet an offhanded remark is not something Fin would leave out. "Hey, Liv " he pauses for a moment to watch as the loafing guys unexpectedly begin to move lights and cameras around them, "you and Elliot gonna follow up on that Andretti link today?"

Both Elliot and Olivia shake their heads quietly as Olivia leans in. "Ixnay on the shop talk, Fin. I don't want these 'bums and badges' guys hearing anything they shouldn't know."

"Gonna be a problem, that." He reaches back and adjusts his ponytail. "Apparently they've been angling to tag along. Obviously Munch and I can take the brunt of it, but," he sweeps his eyes over Olivia's lean form, "we all know who they gonna develop a taste for."

"Yeah." Elliot looks at her dryly. "I told her. Eye candy."

With a quirk to his mouth Fin cocks his head at Elliot. "Whoa. Eye candy? Ease up on the MTV, Stabler."

"And that's what I told him." Olivia grins a little before her eyes flicker over Elliot's broad shoulder. "Incoming."

The short director is approaching them with an odd shuffling gait, his smile blindingly white and much too cheerful. "Hi, hi." He extends a hand into the group at general and by seemingly unanimous consensus receives Elliot's for a handshake. For a moment, eyeing Olivia with pale blue eyes, he considers trying again, but then his glance falls on the suddenly glowering Fin and he re-evaluates quickly. "Trevor Weenan's the name - I met this big guy here earlier briefly," one hand considers patting Elliot's arm and then re-evaluates once again, "but I haven't had the utter pleasure" This is directly aimed at Olivia, and Elliot thinks he might have to hold her back when Weenan tilts his head in a calculatedly endearing move which falls flat spectacularly. Copying his stance Olivia treats him to one of her darkest looks before she finally replies almost monosyllabically. "Benson."

Instead of freezing with pure terror Trevor Weenan almost giggles with glee. "Strong, silent, edgy I love it!" He barely notices it when Elliot wraps a restraining hand around Liv's upper arm and utters a low warning, "Liv" before the short man continues. "So this is what detectives do on a Monday morning - stand around in a huddle. Exciting. Is it actually a huddle or do you call it something else?"

Fin eyes him balefully. "We're going to call it self-defense soon." Shooting a glance at his colleagues he struts off to his desk. "'Scuse me - I got some things to do."

By silent mutual consent Olivia and Elliot take to their desks too, and begin to wade their way through the copious paperwork littering the surfaces. It is not long before Weenan's cameras are set up and he's ready to roll, and the frustration in his face is evident as Olivia picks up yet another document and begins to read through it with overt concentration. Panning the shot provides an equally mind-numbing view of Elliot, writing his way calmly and pointedly through an unidentified form. Even the arrival of Captain Cragen is a non-event, the older man lifting his hand in an impersonal greeting to Olivia and disappearing into his office only to close the door purposely. Half an hour later he sticks his head out of his door, ignoring the blinding light which is suddenly angled his way.

"Benson!"

Nodding in his direction Olivia reads the last sentence on the paper in her hand and puts it down on the pile before she pushes herself away from the desk and approaches Cragen's office. Inviting her in, away from the guy with the camera on his shoulder who's tracking her every move, he closes the door again, shutting out the chaos.

"Sorry about that."

She frowns and rubs the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger briefly before she glances up at him where he's perched on the side of his desk. "Who invited these guys in, cap?"

"Blame the city and the powers that be." Cragen's round eyes signal annoyance. "The CBC jumps at the chance to see what their tax money buys, and the upper echelons aren't all that dead set against a bit of publicity either." He shakes his head. "It's only for a week, Liv. Don't let it get you down."

The dark woman lifts a hand to rub the back of her neck tiredly. "Only a week? Jesus, cap, we're right in the middle of the Rogan case and we have to start treading lightly now?"

"Yeah, I know." Rising to his feet he walks around the desk and sits down in his chair. "If I thought it would help I'd tell them to stick with Munch and Fin, but they're not gonna do that, Liv."

Sighing, she raises her eyebrows at him. "Just don't say the words eye candy."

"What?"

"Nothing."

He shoots her a silent look before he pushes forward a piece of paper. "Here. What you've been waiting for. A warrant for Andretti signed by ADA Cabot. Go get that piece of scum." She takes the document and stands up, but his voice stops her as she reaches for the doorknob. "Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't stay late tonight. I don't want to see you around after six, okay?"

"I'm fine, cap."

His eyes take in the dark shadows under her eyes and the slight stoop of her shoulders. "Right. I still don't want to see you around tonight. Okay?"

"Sure." When she walks out they both know she's probably lying.

Mindful of the camera tracking her every move she approaches Elliot, who is chewing on the end of his pencil in abject concentration, and sticks the sheet of paper under his nose smoothly. Almost cracking the pencil in half he snaps his gaze to hers, and then to the writing under his nose. When he stands up to slip on his jacket Olivia is grinning.

"Let's go get the sucker."

A few of the camera crew are already packing up their equipment and when Weenan suddenly materializes at Olivia's elbow she shakes her head resolutely.

"Nu uh."

Trevor folds his arms in a gesture of obstinacy, largely absurd because both detectives are taller than he is. "The first thing happening this morning and you tell me I can't go? Sorry, honey. I don't think so. We have an all-access pass to this party here."

Elliot folds his arms, mimicking Weenan's stance, and seems about to step closer to the small man when Captain Cragen's voice sounds from the door.

"Step down, Stabler." When both detectives' eyes turn in his direction, he cocks his head and looks at them intently, the expression in his eyes conveying something beyond his words. "Take them along for the ride. Later on things may be too  sensitive. Right?"

Elliot still hasn't given up on the glare he is bestowing on Weenan, and it is Olivia who nods. "Right, cap." Pursing her lips a little she inclines her head at the short man. "Let's get on with it. We haven't got all day."

Andretti is an arrogant bastard - so confident in his own abilities that he has waived the right to absolutely everything. His options have been laid out very clearly to him by both Elliot and Olivia, the detectives painfully aware of the single camera behind the one-way mirror capturing their every move. It is there on the condition that none of the footage will be used without the consent of Captain Cragen, and though both detectives are furious at its presence they are forced to behave naturally in front of this strutting, chewing, winking specimen.

Even now, the tall darkly handsome man is sitting back to front on the chair, his chewing gum snapping as he looks Olivia up and down slowly with an undisguised leer. She is trying to ignore his stare, and from her stiff back Elliot knows that her patience is wearing thin. He himself has been trying to talk to this waste of oxygen for just over ten minutes, but Andretti is interested in nothing beyond making boorish remarks to Olivia. There is one thing Andretti hadn't counted on, though: their extensive knowledge of his background.

When Olivia motions for Elliot to leave with her eyes he conveys a quick are you sure? with his head before he abruptly stands and shoots Andretti a piercing look.

"I'll be watching you. Don't misbehave."

Sneering at him Andretti watches as the tall detective closes the door behind him before he grins at Olivia. "He into voyeurism?"

Ignoring his little crack she turns her chair backwards too, perching on it to stare at him over the table.

"Tell me about your childhood, Colin."

Andretti grins again. "Hey, you wanted to be alone with me. C'mon, honey, screw the talking."

Shaking her head she allows herself a small smile, an exasperated one though she knows he will interpret it as amusement. A little misinterpretation never hurt yet. "You know Jeremy Rogan."

He chews loudly, his dark eyes pleased. "You said that. I didn't."

"Mm." Olivia shrugs. "Right and wrong. You didn't say that, but I didn't either. Want to guess who told me?" She takes a breath and watches the movement of his mouth still as he waits, before she unexpectedly continues. "I can't tell you. But it's not something you can deny. Come on, Colin, dozens of people knew you as an altar boy. That's not something you can hide."

"So?" He pulls up his shoulders nonchalantly and almost forgets to leer for a minute. "So I knew him. So what?"

"So that wasn't so hard to say, right? Why would you deny it in the first place?"

He snorts ungracefully. "Whatever, detective. I can think of better things to do with you than to sit here talking about crap."

"And yet, here we'll be, talking about crap." She sits back. "How well did you really know Rogan, Colin?"

For the first time there is a flicker of doubt. He drops his head to look at her from under his long lashes, and his motions momentarily stop, before he shrugs again and forces a laugh. "Whatever you're trying to say, it's crap. You're wasting my time."

Olivia nods. "Okay. Just one more thing. Your son, Daniel, how old is he?"

In a flash Andretti's jaw begins to work spasmodically, the small muscles in front of his ears jumping wildly. He is trying very hard to be indifferent, but from a million little signs Olivia can see that he's anything but. She's been trained to crack open people just like him, and she's about to do just that.

"He's nine, isn't he?" Her voice is innocuous but her eyes aren't. The darkly handsome man glares at her suddenly, malevolence written over his features.

"Fuck off."

When she sits forward she's radiating revulsion. "He's nine years old, Colin, and you're letting it happen to him? You're his father, for fuck's sake! What's the matter with you?!"

"You don't know!" When his fist slams down on the table both Olivia and the detectives watching behind the mirror startle slightly. His chest is heaving, and his face is suffused with a dark angry flush. His mouth is contorted into a furious grimace.

Elliot shifts towards the door, concerned, but Captain Cragen puts a warning hand on his forearm. Tightening his square jaw the big detective stops, clenching his fists, his eyes locked on his partner on the other side of the partition. From the line of her back Cragen can tell that Olivia is on edge, but apart from the stiffening of her spine she appears calm to the man opposite her.

"What don't I know, Colin?"

"You don't know shit! Don't talk to me like you know anything!" He stuffs his fist into his mouth in an oddly infantile gesture before he glares at her over it. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Leaning back the detective folds her arms. "It's a little too late to say that now, Colin. Just tell me how you can live with yourself."

"You don't know shit." It's softer and broken, and when he glances up at Olivia his eyes are unexpectedly full of tears, searching hers until he finds something in them that he recognizes. Looking down he scowls, his jaw trembling faintly. "I had to take it like a man. I had to live through it."

"So you should know better!" This time it's Olivia slamming her hand on the table, her dark eyes livid. "You never had anybody to stand up for you! You should be the last person to even think about doing this twice!"

"If I tell about him  then I have to tell about me."

There is silence after he spits it out, and Olivia's head droops tiredly between her shoulders as she watches him. He's crumbled, gone from an arrogant bastard to a shattered boy in the space of a few minutes. He doesn't even look at Olivia when she speaks again, tiredly.

"Isn't it worth putting aside your ego for one moment to stand up for Daniel, Colin? All he wants is one person to care. One! Shouldn't that be his father?" He sobs quietly and a tear falls from his hanging head onto the polished wood of the table's surface. Sitting forward Olivia reaches forward over the table as if to touch him, though her hands stay short of his. "I want you to stand up for him, Colin. That bastard Rogan's going to keep doing what he's doing until somebody stops him, and that could be you. Do what you were supposed to do a long time ago."

He's quiet for such a long time that she thinks she may have misjudged the situation, and she is so weary and despondent that she misses the soft words he speaks.

"What?" Looking up she fixes her dark eyes on him intently. He doesn't meet her gaze.

"Yeah. I'll do it."

After all of that it's almost an anti-climax. With a small nod Olivia puts her hands on the table and presses herself up. "I'll send in an officer to take your statement, Colin."

She is at the door, turning the handle, when he speaks quickly and insistently. "I would have done something eventually, you know. I would have, detective. I do love him, you know?"

Taking care to hide the small bitter smile curling around her lips Olivia turns. "Now's your chance." And then she leaves.

Captain Cragen and the other detectives are standing in the hall, and though they are not actually smiling their shoulders are squarer than when the day began. Elliot steps closer, in front of the others so that Olivia is shielded from them, and grasps her shoulder gently. "That was great, Liv." He studies the lines of fatigue and darkness in the face that he knows so well. "You did great."

She smiles up at him, a half-hearted skew affair which means very little. "Thanks, Elliot." The assurance means nothing to her right now. Shifting from under her partner's light comforting touch she approaches Cragen, nodding absently at the praise the other detectives give her as she passes them. Tucking a hand under her elbow Cragen leads her away from the group, aware of the camera hovering at the perimeter.

"Good work, Olivia." She smiles again, that half-hearted skew smile, and he shakes his head slowly. "Don't let it eat you up, Liv. You've done what you can. He'll do what he has to."

"Sure, cap. Because I told him to."

"Hey. He could have refused." Cragen leans closer. "Liv. Go home and get some rest. You can't go on like this."

"No." For the first time her eyes meet his directly, and he can see the emotions rolling beneath the surface. It's not pretty. "Cap, don't send me home."

She doesn't want to be alone. Shaking his head to himself Cragen presses her elbow lightly. "Okay. All right. But before you get back to the case I want you to get out of here for a little while. Go do something. Have lunch. Or better yet " he shoots a glare at the cameraman sidling closer, and then ponders giving her a constructive assignment to help ease the heaviness she must be feeling right now, "go and tell ADA Cabot we've got her witness. It's what she's been waiting for. Should make her day."

"Okay." She turns away from him and he watches in quiet concern as she walks down the hallway, her back straight.

ADA Alexandra Cabot has just realized that she is reading the same sentence twice when a knock sounds at the door. Closing the file with exasperation she folds her hands on top of it.

"Come in."

Olivia Benson sticks her head around the door. "I can come back if you're busy."

"No, of course not. Please." She waves a hand at the chair, smiling pleasantly as Olivia sits down. "What can I do for you, Olivia?"

"Don't fall off your chair," the detective warns good-humouredly, "but this time we're not asking you for anything."

"Well, wonders never cease." Even as Alex teases in exchange she's studying the other woman critically, and her very first impression is that Olivia looks like hell. The detective's usually friendly brown eyes are ringed with black circles, and exhaustion or something like it has drained her face of its usual color. Sitting forward the blonde ADA frowns. "Are you feeling all right, Olivia?"

"Sure." The dark woman's mouth twists into a semblance of a smile.

"Okay. My apologies, I don't mean to pry." Alex sits back, trying to convey her consideration in her body language. "You just look a little  tired."

"Not sleeping enough. Hazards of the job." They both smile, even though Alex has seen right through the subterfuge and Olivia realizes it. She continues in an attempt to avoid the blue eyes scrutinizing her over the square-framed glasses. "But enough about me. Good news for you. Andretti's signing a statement as we speak. We have the case in the bag."

A smile spreads across Alex's full lips. "Fantastic!" Though the blonde is never terribly demonstrative, Olivia can hear the true appreciation in her tone. She nods in agreement. Reaching up Alex tucks a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear. "Who talked to Andretti?"

"I did." Olivia tries, and fails, to deliver the line with a smile. Cocking her head Alex shifts forward in her seat.

"Olivia?"

"I told you - I'm fine." Wincing at her own impatience the detective lifts a hand to rub at the back of her neck with a sigh. "Sorry, Alex. I'm very tired. Didn't mean to take it out on you."

A small frown creeps onto Alex's forehead and she gets up from her chair, walking around the desk to perch on a corner of it so that she sits barely two feet from the brooding detective. Her long legs stretch out next to Olivia's chair.

"Olivia, talk to me."

The dark woman sinks down lower in her seat and shoots up a sardonic glance. "About being tired? I should think you know."

Alex bites her bottom lip in frustration. "Olivia."

Lifting her hand Olivia rubs once again at the back of her neck, a motion Alex has seen her perform many times. "It's nothing, Alex. I just " she looks away, "he knew his kid was being molested and he didn't do anything because he was worried about his own abuse coming out." Her dark eyes narrow and she takes a deep silent breath. "I don't understand how anyone can do that. I don " Abruptly she stops and shakes her head, at a loss for words.

Leaning forward Alex tries to reach her without invading her much treasured personal space in this abnormally sensitive moment. "Olivia, the fear of being discovered can be as destructive as the fear of not doing anything. He not only had to face the question of his own abuse, but also those about why he hadn't come forward yet. Guilt can be a crippling thing." Catching Olivia's glance she lifts her hands. "Hey, I'm not saying I condone it. Nothing of the sort. I'm just so used to playing all sides in these things."

"The right side to play is the nine year old boy's, Alex." Olivia's voice is tight.

"And that's what I'll be doing." If Alex were a tactile person she'd reach out to touch Olivia right now, to squeeze that tense shoulder, but she's not that kind of person and she'd have to guess that neither is detective Benson. Instead she flips her hair back and stands up. "I have an hour clear. How about getting some lunch with me?"

Pushing herself up from her chair Olivia stands too, stepping back a little when she realizes how close Alex is to her. "No thanks. I'm not hungry right now."

"Okay." Retreating into her professional façade Alex gets behind the desk and sits down. "Thanks for letting me know, Olivia. It's great news, really." Then that façade slips just a little and her voice softens. "Try to get some rest, will you?"

Nodding inattentively Olivia Benson turns and walks out of the door.

Elliot shifts forward, eyes glued to the action in front of him, and he is so engrossed that he almost doesn't realize it when Olivia slides into the seat next to him. Mark O'Connor, the sleazy lawyer for Father Rogan, is busily tearing into, and basically destroying, the testimony of one of the older boys called to the stand as a witness. Though Alex Cabot is lodging objection after objection there is not much she can do to protect this witness from the excessively sharp tongue of O'Connor. The tall graying man ends off his cross-examination with a devastating comment which is objected to by Alex and overruled by Judge Watson before he sits down and shoots a victorious and vaguely amused glance at Alex. Ignoring him she rises and calls Colin Andretti to the stand.

The tall handsome man is dressed in a black suit and his dark features stand out sharply against the starkness of it. He looks like he hasn't been sleeping properly.

Reaching out a large hand Elliot lightly grasps Olivia's and presses it, then keeps his fingers wrapped gently around hers. Glad for the comfort she lets him be, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

Having been sworn in, Andretti perches on the witness chair nervously, glancing up at the judge with a measure of trepidation. Rising, Alex approaches him with a soothing smile.

"Please state your name for the record."

"Colin " his voice breaks and he clears his throat, "Colin Andretti."

She nods. "Mister Andretti, is your son Daniel Andretti?"

"Yes." He clears his throat again.

Reaching over to her desk Alex lifts a document and approaches Andretti. "Mr Andretti, according to a sworn statement given by you to a police officer yesterday afternoon, on the 23rd of February, you state that both you and your son had been sexually abused by the accused, Father Jeremy Rogan. Is that correct?"

Colin Andretti glances down at the smooth wooden surface in front of him for a moment before he lifts his head. "No. That is not correct."

In Elliot's hand Olivia's tightens immediately, the fingers bunching into a fist. Alex Cabot's hesitation is minute, almost invisible, but there is a flash of bewilderment in her blue eyes before she retaliates.

"I have that document right here with your signature on it, Mr Andretti." She lifts the paper for good measure.

Andretti's shoulders shift. "Yeah. That statement was made under coercion. They forced me."

The court explodes into sound, overshadowed by the banging of Judge Watson's gavel. "Silence in court! Silence in court!" When moderate calm is regained the judge inclines his head at ADA Alex Cabot and Mark O'Connor. "Chambers, please, councilors."

A soft murmur runs through the courtroom as they leave through the side door. Olivia is pale and rigid, her eyes fixed on Andretti as he sits uncomfortably in the witness box. Next to her Elliot is leaning forward, his face outraged.

When the judge and the lawyers return Alex's face is grim and hard. She slips into the seat behind her desk and begins to shuffle documents mechanically. Mark O'Connor, on the other hand, has the makings of a sardonic smile curling around his mouth. Leaning over the partition that separates the witness box from the judges' seat Watson addresses Andretti.

"Mr Andretti, you realize that it is a punishable offence to perjure yourself on the stand?"

"Yes sir. Judge."

"When you say the statement was made under coercion, can you explain to us what you mean?"

The handsome man swallows. "Well, I was taken in for questioning and the detective, Benson, I think, she was pressuring me, using my son as a threat, and I couldn't think clearly."

"Bullshit!" Elliot is out of his seat, shouting, and it takes another moment for the judge to calm down the court. Pointing his gavel at the tall detective he orders the bailiff to escort him out, and then turns to face the court.

"In view of the allegations I have no choice but to dismiss this witness for the time being. We will reconvene tomorrow morning at 10h00."

Olivia is up and out of her seat, and when she joins Elliot outside he's pacing up and down like a bull in a china shop, his expression dark as he glares at the security officers watching him cautiously. There is a cameraman hovering behind a pillar, his lens pointed at the female detective the moment she exits the doors, and with a clench of her jaw she hooks a hand under Stabler's arm and drags him down the hallway, away from the throng.

"That fucking asshole! I cannot believe he just did that!" Elliot is hanging back. Yanking his arm Olivia pulls him forward.

"Move, Elliot - get out of that bloody camera's way! And keep your voice down."

Yanking him with her she steps behind an ornate pillar, and he is about to snap at her when he notices the fury in the glint of her eyes and the set of her mouth. Leaning back against the plastered surface he takes a deep breath to calm himself and heaves a slow sigh. "Asshole."

"Rogan's going to walk." Elliott has known Olivia for long enough to recognize the rage in the deceptive calmness of her voice. Reaching out he wraps a hand around her shoulder and shakes gently.

"No, he's not. We'll find something else. Maybe the other witnesses will push this through."

"They WON'T!" She brushes off his touch impatiently. "You know that and I know that, Elliot! This guy's going to walk and that asshole in there just sold his son for his own ego!" Her hands begin to shake. "I could kill that fucking " In frustration she stomps back into the hallway - and almost collides with Andretti, passing by with O'Connor. Stepping back the tall handsome man begins to apologize, until he sees who it is, and then his mouth sets itself in a solid line. He turns to O'Connor.

"I don't want to see her."

The lawyer lifts a hand to beckon the officers on guard duty, but without a glance in his direction Olivia fixes her glare on Andretti. "Why, Colin?!"

"Stay away from me." He can't quite look her in the eyes. Stepping a little closer she shakes her head.

"He's going to walk out of here, Colin, and he's going to keep hurting your little boy. I assume that's what you wanted."

Rather than flinch at the acidic tone of her voice he snaps and surges forward, his face pushed within a foot of hers. At her side Elliot steps forward and takes his arm, but he yanks it from the bigger man's grip, still glaring at her. "What I wanted? What I WANTED? Because of you I get phone calls in the night telling me what they're going to do to Daniel if I talk! I have a choice between my boy being fucked and him being killed, thanks to you! Aren't statements supposed to be confidential? Don't you people give a shit about that?"

With the approaching officers blocked from view by Olivia's body, it is only Elliot who sees Andretti's fist shoot out. It connects with the female detective's nose and snaps her head backwards before she surges forward and grabs him by his shirt violently. Trying to push her back Andretti loses his balance and they fall over backwards, Olivia on top of him as he tries to keep her shaking hands away form his throat wildly. Between Elliot and Mark O'Connor the two men finally manage to separate them; Stabler holding Olivia none too gently by her shoulders and the back of her shirt, and Mark with restraining hands on Andretti's chest. The witness's chest is heaving and he glares malevolently at the detective, whose dark eyes are fixed on him with something surpassing hate in them.

"This won't be good for the case, detective." At the smug tone in Mark O'Connor's voice Olivia has to be restrained forcibly by her partner. Pulling her back Elliot bellows at her.

"Liv! Liv! Stop it!" He shakes her for good measure. ""C'mon! Take it easy!"

"What the hell is going on here?!" Turning around, the first thing Elliot sees is the camera and the man behind it, grinning like the Cheshire cat. The second thing he sees is the blonde ADA, as livid as she's ever been, flanked by three officers. "Elliot?" Her tone is curt.

"He hit first." The tall detective winces, first at his juvenile words and then at the belligerence of his tone. Olivia is still glaring at Andretti and with a sharp motion he pulls her around to look at Alex Cabot.

The ADA's blue eyes flicker almost unnoticeably to the line of blood running down Olivia's upper lip before she clenches her jaw and walks past them towards the elevator. "Detectives." It is clearly a summoning. Stabler follows behind her, his hand tightening almost painfully on Olivia's arm when she pulls back, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on Colin Andretti, and before she gives in she spits a few words at the man, so softly that Elliot has no idea what she's just said.

When the doors close in front of them Alex turns around and faces Olivia, her blue eyes incredulous. "Do you realize what the hell you just did out there? Assaulting a witness  " she shakes her head, "What the fuck was going through your head, Benson?!" The curse sounds rough and unseemly coming from her lips

Olivia bites down hard, the muscles at her temples shifting before she speaks. Her mouth is twisted into a barely controlled sneer. "He lied. That asshole Rogan is going to walk because he LIED!"

"No." Alex is now almost as worked up as Olivia, and Elliot steps between them surreptitiously. For whose benefit he's not sure at the moment. "We could still have put him away, Olivia, before you attacked the witness! I could have had that fucking statement enforced - except now, his yells of police brutality are suddenly holding water! Who's going to pick your side over a coerced civilian's after they see you beating the tar out of him on the news, Benson?! WHO?" She is about to say something else and bites it back, inclining her head to one side to try to regain control of herself.

Olivia is not doing the same thing. "He hit ME!" Her dark eyes spit fire. "HE HIT ME. Elliot saw it."

"Regardless." Alex is suddenly cool and that's almost worse than the loss of temper. "You shouldn't have hit back. This case just went to hell in a hand basket." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a neatly folded handkerchief which she holds out to Olivia. "For god's sake, clean yourself up."

Snatching the material from her hand the detective presses it to her bleeding nose roughly. Her hand is shaking, and her voice has slipped from strident to cutting. "When he left us he was still saying what we wanted him to. Isn't it your job to get the right statement on the stand, councilor? Isn't it your damned job? Did you fuck it up in the middle?! But I forget - you don't care. You're just used to playing all the sides, is that right?"

"I'm going to attribute that idiotic comment to your emotional state, detective." Glaring at Olivia icily Alex nods curtly. "When Captain Cragen hears about this, he'll probably have you suspended. And if he doesn't, I certainly will give it a try." The elevator doors open as if on cue and she walks out, her posture stiff and wounded.

Olivia leans back against the wooden panel and closes her eyes. With a quick glance at his partner Elliot sprints up behind Alex and touches her shoulder lightly. "Alex, listen "

"Don't, Elliot. I've had enough today."

He persists. "Alex, listen. Please. That guy did hit first." When she opens her mouth he hurries on. "I know. I know. She shouldn't have hit back, but it was self-defense. She just got a little  carried away, okay?" He spreads his hands wide, helplessly. "This thing's hit her hard, Alex. It's not an excuse, but you can see when you look at her. Christ, Alex, she looks like the walking dead. It's grinding her down!"

When she turns to him he finds himself thinking that he has rarely, if ever, seen the blonde ADA looking so frail and tired. She purses her lips. "Elliot, I do know. That's why she shouldn't have been here in the first place! Look," she glances away, "if it was self-defense the camera will have caught it. It couldn't do Olivia harm to stay at home for a few days and rest while the investigation wraps up. In that state, she's safer somewhere else."

She doesn't know the big man all well enough, but she doesn't have to, to understand the guarded look which flashes into his eyes. "The least you could have done was to give her the benefit of the doubt, Alex. They're going to crucify her. It's the least you could have done."

Turning his back on her he walks back to the elevator where Olivia Benson is standing motionlessly, her head tilted back against the wall. Speaking to her quietly he leads her out of Alex's sight.

"You shouldn't have been anywhere near him!" Cragen's voice was so loud and frustrated that several detectives looked up in the adjoining office, their expressions sympathetic. "You should have walked away, Liv! Now I've got no choice but to suspend you until we can run an investigation. Damn it." Eyeing Olivia with furious eyes he inclined his head at the door sharply. "Go home, Liv. Get some rest. Get your act together. We'll sort this shit out." Wordlessly she gets to her feet. "And Liv? I think you owe Alex Cabot an apology. She had nothing to do with it." Without a reply she walks out.

It is two days later when Olivia approaches the front door of Alex Cabot's apartment building guardedly. She is talking to herself silently, encouraging herself to do something she does not want to do, but that she knows is right. She notes the blue van standing on the curb with a critical eye, frowning at an odd thought niggling in the back of her mind before she flashes her badge at the doorman, smiling slightly as he opens the door for her. It is still closing behind her when her glance falls on the closing of the elevator doors and the four men standing inside it, their coats bizarrely similar as they watch her emotionlessly. There's a moment of pure silence in Olivia's ears, an instinct that crackles somewhere in her before she curses and surges forward towards the staircase, climbing the stairs two at a time. On the first floor, and the second floor, and the third, she ducks into the corridor to press the elevator call button, hoping to slow them down somewhat as she hurtles towards her goal. On the fifth floor, her breath escaping in harsh gasps, she slips her phone from her pocket and holds in the emergency speed dial. Elliot picks up after one ring.

"Liv? What's up?"

"I'm at Alex's place, Elliot. Four guys. Something's wrong. Get here." Cutting off his tinny voice she slips the phone into her leather jacket's pocket and unclips the holster. Draws her pistol. The corridor twists at the front and she takes the corner roughly, aware of time running out.

Alex is at her door, a bag of groceries at her feet as she's gripping her keys.

"Alex!"

The ADA turns and begins "Olivia, I don't want to he  " but her voice peters off as she notices the firearm and the detective's determined approach.

The elevator dings.

"Get down. Unlock the door." Olivia puts a hand on the dazed ADA's shoulder and pushes her down for emphasis, then turns around to shield the blonde's body with hers. "Get in and bar the door."

Alex's hand is shaking so badly - she has no idea what's happening and she's suddenly petrified. She cannot get the key into the lock and almost drops it when the first shot rings out.

Seeing the first man's arm appear around the corner Olivia takes careful aim. "Freeze! Police!" and for a moment he does, but then his arm moves in a motion she knows all too well. Before he can draw his gun a bullet thumps into his upper chest, spinning him backwards into the man close behind him. Swearing, his partner pushes him to the side and pulls his own pistol from its holster under his arm. Leaning forward he gives a thought to peering around the corner, but the situation requires force, not finesse. Looking around he motions to his two associates, and without a word they burst into the hallway, their guns blazing.

Expecting the action, but with no alternative, Olivia fires immediately, hitting one of the large men in the leg, and another in the arm. Then something collides with her chest in a blunt punch and pushes her backwards involuntarily. She knows she's been hit, but there's no pain yet, just a feeling of dullness near her upper right shoulder. Her gun's fallen and she knows she's going to fall too, but she can't do anything to stop herself. Her body catapults backwards with the force, slamming Alex Cabot into the door before they both sprawl to the floor, the blonde woman underneath her. In shock, Alex tries to figure out what has just happened - she doesn't know whether she should get up and try the key again, whether she should call for help, or whether she should stay put and wait. Panic is pushing her breath into short sharp gasps. Unaware of what has happened she pushes a little at the body covering hers.

Two of the three men approach the fallen women cautiously. The third is trying to stop the blood pouring from his thigh with muffled curses. The man in front nudges at the dark detective with the toe of his boot.

"Hey."

He is being careful, and so it is not necessarily unexpected when she whirls around and makes a grab for his leg. Drawing it back he kicks her in the side, hard, and then another time. Watching her curl in on herself he nods with cordial pleasure. "Let's get her off the other one." When Olivia puts up faint resistance he kicks her once more, and then, together with the other man, lifts her off Alex's body roughly, pushing her to one side where she curls up painfully.

"Alexandra Cabot?"

His Scottish accent is thick and menacing. Alex doesn't answer, but the sudden jerk of her head and the shock in her blue eyes give the answer clearly.

"Okay." Reaching down to the cringing woman he slips a hand under her elbow and yanks her up. "Come on, lass. Don't make it difficult." When he passes Olivia he sticks out his chin and speaks to the other men. "Let's take this one too. We have uses for cops."

With grim smiles they reach down and haul the detective to her feet.

Her entry into the back of the van is less than graceful. The two goons shove her forward as casually as though she were a bag of potatoes. Twisting to prevent herself from falling on her injured side she grunts unhappily as her bruised body hits the hard floor solidly. The third man is more careful, propelling Alex Cabot into the back with a supporting, yet firm hand at the small of her back. Dazedly the blonde creeps into the space and sits down, her eyes large as she stares at Olivia. The doors close behind them and with a groan the detective pushes herself up to a sitting position. Cradling her limp useless arm against her stomach she begins to feel at the roof and the walls around them before shaking her head. The lurch of the van as it begins to move rocks them both.

Wincing slightly, Olivia shrugs off her leather jacket with acute discomfort and tugs at her black v-neck sweater with her left hand, trying to lift it. "Alex?"

The blonde looks at her with shocked eyes.

"Hey, Alex." Abandoning the sweater Olivia wraps her hand around the pointed chin and shakes the beautiful face slightly. "I need you to snap out of it, Alex. I need your help here. Alex?"

Finally the ADA's eyes blink and she pulls her face away from Olivia's hand. "Who are these guys, Olivia?"

"At this stage they're either Rogan's or Andretti's. I don't know which." Reaching down Olivia tugs again at the sweater, her teeth clamped together. Though it is dark in the back of the van, there is just enough light coming in from the window at the front for Alex to see the detective's motions.

"What are you doing?"

"I've got to get this sweater off." Groaning, she shifts a little. "I need to slow down the bleeding."

"What?" The old Alex is back, feisty and indignant. "Where were you hit?"

"Chest. Shoulder. Look, Alex, can you help me get this thing off, please - I need to stop the bleeding now and I'm having trouble "

"Hold on." Shifting closer Alex arranges her long legs around Olivia awkwardly and extends her hands a little uncertainly. She has to help the detective slip her left arm out first, and then the clumsy right arm. In the darkness the blood on Olivia's white undershirt looks like a growing ink stain. Before she can speak, the van takes a corner roughly and they are thrown sideways. Shooting out her arms instinctively to prevent herself from careening into the wall Olivia gasps gutturally as the agony of the impact drives through her arm and shoulder and straight into her wounded chest, collapsing her elbows under her and sending her to the floor roughly. It is as if the air has been driven from her lungs, and she is still battling to breathe when Alex's hands find their way onto her back gently. They're warm.

"Olivia, move over here."

She is sitting with her back propped against the back wall and gently guides the detective until she is sitting between Alex's long extended legs.

"Okay." Alex's hands hover just above the square shoulders. "Liv, I think we should use your shirt, rather than the sweater. You're going to get cold, and the cotton will probably absorb better than wool."

The use of her nickname almost, but not quite, slips by Olivia. "Good thinking." She reaches down to grasp the hem of her shirt, moving her hand away quickly when it brushes over Alex's. With a quick motion the ADA guides the shirt over her head, trying not to jar her too much, and then she hands it over to Olivia with an unsure shrug. Taking the white material the detective bunches it in her left hand and presses it firmly against the wound, groaning at the sudden fire that spreads along her chest. The long legs flanking her shift uncomfortably.

"How are you doing?"

Olivia bites off a sardonic retort. "I've been better. If I can just get the bleeding under control, things should be fine." For a while.

"Okay." The van takes another turn, but as the dark woman feels herself tipping over unavoidably, a pair of long arms wrap around her and pull her back, holding her against the body behind her until the motion of the van stabilizes again. At these close quarters she can hear Alex's breath in her ear - hitching slightly - and also oddly, feel her heartbeat - erratic and speeding. The blonde is afraid. There's nothing Olivia would like to do more than to say something soothing, but a chill is running down her own body and she's not about to lie. Not to Alex. Instead she settles for something to distract her.

"I'm sorry about what I said at the courthouse, Alex. It was irrational and offensive and I hope you know I didn't mean any of it. "

There's either a muffled chuckle or a strong exhalation - she's not sure which. Then the arms around her loosen awkwardly. "It's all right, Olivia. I know you didn't." She shifts a little, and there is silence. Sensing something else to be said the detective stays quiet, and a minute later Alex does speak again. "I was angry with you. But I should have been on your side."

"It's okay. I know you do your best." Lifting the bunched shirt from her upper chest Olivia folds it as best she can and then presses the wet square of material against the wound again. "Alex, can you help me put my sweater back on? I don't want to be sitting here in my underwear when the Sopranos open that door."

"Sure." Between them they manage to slip the sweater over her head and shoulders, Olivia slipping her left hand down into the v-neck to position the cloth roughly over the bleeding injury. It's almost soaked through by now, but she has little choice. She considers slipping on her jacket as well, but realizes soon enough that the weight of the leather over her shoulders will cause unmanageable pain. Alex's hands are plucking at her shirt mindlessly, and, realizing that it is an uncontrolled stress reaction, Olivia lets her be. Only once, when the hands brush over ribs she thinks might be cracked or broken, does she shift away a little. Immediately Alex pulls back.

"Sorry."

"It's okay." Olivia's words die in the loud sound of the van's back doors opening. They stopped and she didn't even notice. A gun is leveled on them by one of the goons, a lanky lean one, as the other two reach in.

"Now don't fight this."

Elliot, Fin and Munch bundle into the foyer of Alex's building, badges at the ready and guns drawn. In one corner the doorman is lying folded up, looking more peacefully asleep than anything else, but the gunshot wound to his head tells a different story. Dropping down to his haunches Munch checks for a pulse.

"Damn."

Fin flips open his phone and Elliot steps forward to the stairwell, dodging in cautiously to look up. "Think they're still here?"

"Sure, Elliot, they're having a tea party." Munch raises his eyebrows dryly. They go up the floors one by one, checking the hallways, but when they get to floor five they already know the men are long gone.

Alex's door is locked. A bag of groceries is sitting forlornly to one side, and there are fresh scratch marks on the paint around the lock where a key may have slipped. Crouching, Stabler puts out a hand and almost touches the small pool of blood congealing on the floor. His face is pale. Kindly, Fin puts a hand on his shoulder.

"C'mon, Elliot. Backup's on the way. We'll find them."

Nobody knows anything. Nobody's seen anything.

Alex's neighbor heard the gunshots, and with the practical self-preservation of a city dweller locked her door and phoned 911. She doesn't know what happened, doesn't want to know anything beyond that she's not in any danger.

Elliot's hands are twitching at his sides.

The detectives are so intent on their discussion that they don't even notice the cameraman and the boom swinging above their heads any more. Cragen is perched on the corner of a desk, his face serious.

"So this would be Rogan, right?"

Elliot takes the pencil he's been chewing on out of his mouth. "Actually, cap, I was thinking it might also be Andretti."

"Okay." Cragen thinks for a moment. "Search warrants. We've got probably cause, at the least. Elliot, I want you to stay here."

The big detective rises. "Come on, cap, you know I need to . "

" be there. I know. But we have nothing beyond one little gap, and if I let you loose in there you might knock some heads together. Let Munch and Fin take it, okay?"

Elliot sinks down into his seat, his square face a mask of control. "Fine."

"Okay." Cragen nods at Fin. "Take Rogan's people first. The other one is a long shot. I want to  "

"Excuse me." It's Trevor Weenan, the short director, and he's directly behind Cragen. Turning around the captain graces him with a long cold glance.

"We're busy, mister Weenan."

"I might be able to help you."

Frowning, Munch shakes his head. "It's mine shafts where they send canaries in first to die, Trevor. We'll survive on this one without you."

"I can tell you who took the detective."

The sentence has the power of stopping them all in their tracks. Four heads look up as one, and it is Elliot who speaks first. "Weenan, if you're yanking my chain I swear to God I'm going to take that boom and jam it up your  "

The small man holds up his hands in a placatory motion. "I'm not. I had detective Benson followed. Jackson over there " he points to a cameraman sitting in a corner, " should have the footage you'd need."

"What the fuck were you doing following Liv around when she was off duty?" Elliot's anger is tangible, and when Weenan looks around he can see it mirrored in the stances of the other men. Shrugging helplessly he tries a sheepish smile.

"She was the story, man. You know it. We wanted a private angle for the disgraced officer. " The response to these words tells him that he's moving in the wrong direction, and so he changes tack with very little grace. "Look. That's irrelevant. Let's get the tape."

Cragen takes him lightly by the arm. "Weenan, if this turns out to be anything but helpful I'm locking you in an interrogation room with detective Stabler. You've been warned."

In the footage the number plate is perfectly clear. Jackson had only taped Olivia going into the building and then given up on her for the evening. But in that one sweeping shot the dark van is starkly visible.

Running a check shows the van to be registered to one Mr Jason O'Meara. Grabbing their things the detectives tear out of the station.

Olivia tries to keep an eye on where they're taking Alex, but the rough hands under her arms are hurting her so much that she's barely able to keep from passing out. It is with enormous gratification that she finds herself being dragged into a large sporadically lit room in what appears to be an empty warehouse, and sees Alex right in front of her being tied to a chair. When the men begin to do the same to her she twists once, but a hand curled over her shoulder on the injured side keeps her down and unable to move. Her hands are tied behind her tightly, the position sending intense pain through her shoulders when she tries to move. Looking around she notices the pools of shadow between the men, the windows up high showing dark sky, the silence around them. Now they might be in trouble.

The one man, she imagines he is the ringleader, steps up to Alex and bends down to hold his narrow face level to hers. "You let that asshole Rogan go."

Okay, not Rogan's men. Damn. Olivia takes a deep breath, wincing slightly at the burning in her ribcage, and then yells as roughly as she can. "Hey, you prick! Leave her alone!"

One of the others - she's been keeping an eye on the two of them, moving at the perimeter of her vision - steps closer and delivers a vicious blow to her midriff. "Shut up, cop," The pain sends tears to her eyes and as she's fighting to take a breath she hears Alex at the edge of her consciousness.

"Stop! Don't hurt her!"

"How charitable of you." The words roll roundly in his Scottish accent. "I just wish you were so concerned about everybody else."

"What do you want?" Her normally smooth low voice is faint and breathless, her eyes large. Chuckling, he straightens up and tucks her blonde hair over her shoulder pleasantly.

"I want you to tell me why you'd let a scumbag like Rogan off."

"I didn't let him off!"

"As good as." The lean man sniffs and raises an eyebrow. "You let that asshole Andretti walk out like that? He signed a piece of paper admitting to what was happening, and you let him walk out? Shame, councillor. Do you need lessons in law, or do you need lessons in recognizing the villains?"

"Hey! It wasn't her fault! Back off!" For her defense Olivia gets another fist to the midsection, and this time she gasps for air painfully, her face contorting. She can feel her strength starting to seep away now. Watching her Alex sobs once, softly. The lean man nods thoughtfully.

"It's as much her fault as anybody's, detective."

"Rogan's not off yet." To her credit Alex is trying to keep her voice level and controlled. "There're still other witnesses to come. You should trust the law to take care of this."

"Trust the law to take care of this? Trust the law?" He raises his eyebrows. "You know, miss Cabot, we did want to trust the law in this. We could have taken Rogan out where he stood, and instead we thought revenge would be so much sweeter if he went to jail. We know what they do with kiddie molesters there, right? And it should have been as simple as that, too. And then this one fuck walks out on you and you don't do a thing about it and now suddenly we have to ascertain who's on the right side!"

Alex shoots a glance over at Olivia. The detective's eyes are half-closed and she is straining weakly against the ropes.

"Let her go. Please."

The tall man looks over at the dark woman. "Her? Oh, no, councillor. We have plans." Straightening up, he motions to the two other men, who disappear into the shadows for a moment. When they return they are dragging a chair behind them. There is a man on it, tied as the two women are, and as he's dragged into the same pool of light as Olivia Benson he looks around wildly, his eyes frantic above the silver tape covering his mouth. Alex gasps.

The tall man laughs without humour. "Miss Cabot, detective - I think you know Father Jeremy Rogan?"

The address for Jason O'Meara is a neat uninteresting brownstone building filled with offices. On the third floor they are met with an unassuming wooden brown door with a porthole in the centre. Beyond it a young brunette receptionist sits filing her nails with great ardor. She does not seem terribly surprised at the appearance of three large men hefting badges in front of her table - in fact, she appears to be flirting with Fin. Uncharacteristically, the attention drives him to silence.

Elliot taps his fingers impatiently on the table in front of her. "We need to see Jason O'Meara. Now."

"He's not in." She's frustratingly inscrutable. "Can I take a message?"

"If you can't, then your entire education was wasted." Munch puts on his tough face. "Where is he?"

"I'm not really at liberty to say, but " she leans closer to Fin conspiratorially, "just for you - Jason has five warehouses downtown. I'll just jot down the address for you here" she does so, " and my number on the back."

Fin clears his throat. "What's this O'Meara do?"

"Oh, he's a businessman. Lots of things. Packaging, transport, that kind of thing. And charity in his spare time. Feeding program for the church. He's a good guy."

Elliot narrows his eyes. "Which church is this?"

Tapping at her teeth with a pencil the girl flutters her eyelashes. "Saint Michael's. Is that right?"

"Very right." The men share a glance. It's Father Jeremy Rogan's parish. Nodding their thanks at the girl they leave the office and make for the factories.

Rogan blinks fuzzily against the light shining in his eyes, then darts his gaze between the tall man and ADA Alex Cabot in front of him, tied to her chair. When he finally looks to his right and spots detective Olivia Benson slouched on another chair ten feet away, her dark head down, panic shows cleanly in his eyes. There is a small cut above his bushy grey eyebrows, and his thick grey hair is in disarray. Strutting over, the tall man wraps his fingers through it and pulls up Rogan's head so that his face is clearly visible to Alex.

"See this, Cabot? This is the wrong side of the fence." Pushing the grey man's head forward harshly he steps between the three captives and pulls a pistol from the waistband under his jacket. At the sight of the firearm Alex's breath becomes jagged and sharp, and Rogan moans fearfully and loudly under the silver tape. Lifting her head Olivia fixes her eyes helplessly on the gun.

The tall man is casually conversational as he checks the barrel and the magazine. "See, you think you know what evil means. You always think you do, until you meet people who look it in the eyes and don't think about it twice. Isn't that right, Miss Cabot? If the circumstances were different you'd be on the other side of the fight, so it doesn't really matter to you, does it?"

"Of course it matters to me." Her expression is pleading. "Please, don't hurt anybody."

"See what I mean?" He pushes out a bark of laughter. "Earlier it was just her you didn't want me to hurt. Now, suddenly, it's everybody? You're so fickle it makes me sick."

"You're wrong!" Olivia has been quiet for so long that they've all just about forgotten about her, and it is with some surprise that all heads swivel in her direction. "You're wrong." She repeats it for emphasis. "Don't do this. You're wrong."

"I thought we'd shut her up." The tall man motions to one of his friends. "Tape her mouth, will you?"

When Olivia's mouth is securely covered with a broad strip of silver tape he turns his back on her casually and addresses Alex again. "She thinks I'm wrong. I wonder." Slowly he walks forward, until he is standing between Rogan and Olivia Benson. Lifting the barrel he points it at Olivia's head. "How about it?"

"NO!" Alex strains forward, her eyes filling with tears. Olivia does not have to turn her head to know what is happening. Taking a shallow breath she closes her eyes and waits. Her face is pale. The lanky lean man watches her for a moment, his face expressionless, before he turns around and points the gun at Rogan's head. The priest's eyes swivel around to meet his and he begins to snivel, big sobs smothered by the constriction across his face. Grinning just a little the tall man cocks his head at Alex.

"And now?"

Helplessly she shakes her head. "Don't."

"See, I'm giving you a choice. A chance to redeem yourself." He actually looks pleased with himself. "I'm going to shoot somebody here today, councilor, and I'm giving you the choice."

Alex is sobbing. "Don't do this to me! Why are you doing this to me?!"

He ignores her outburst. "Will it be him?" Pistol towards Rogan. "Or will it be her?" Swinging around towards Olivia. "It's an easy choice, I should think, with her being a pal and all. Come on, Cabot, I've made it easier than I should have. Just pick one."

Tears are making their way down Alex's pale cheeks towards her collar. Her eyes flicker from Rogan to Olivia to the tall man and his gloating expression. "Please don't make me."

His voice is suddenly sharp as the crack of a whip. "If you don't choose I shoot them both. That's it. Now TELL ME!" She can see the barrel beginning to shake and perspiration running down his temples. When he swings around to Olivia her heart feels as though it's stopping.

"No"

"You're taking too long." The sneer on his face is malevolent. "I think I'll just " and as he begins to tighten his finger she screams.

"NO! Not Olivia!"

Stopping, he peers over his shoulder at her. "Not Olivia?" Turning slowly he points the weapon at Rogan, who is whimpering. The smell of urine is hanging in the air. "What about him?"

Defeated, Alex drops her head down to her chest. When she speaks her voice is barely a whisper. "Just not Olivia."

The sound of the gunshot jerks her so hard that she almost topples sideways off her chair. In front of her Rogan is lying on his side, his eyes large and panicked and lifeless, a pool of blood forming beneath his head. Olivia has her head turned towards the scene, though her eyes are closed and tears are running down her face.

"Now then." The lean man prods the dead priest with one foot. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Oh, you'll remember it forever. Keep you on the straight and narrow, it will." And then he turns and points his gun at Olivia. "You made the right choice, councilor. Good on you. But I'm afraid I can't let her leave either. I only hope that her memory can keep you on the straight and narrow "

And then the second gunshot sounds, and it seems like forever before he falls forward, onto his knees, and drops the gun in wretched surprise. Stepping out of the doorway Elliot Stabler trains his gun on the remaining two men.

"Police! Get down on the ground!"

Continued...

K. Alexander's Scrolls
Main Page