A New Drink
Title: Orange Juice
Rating: PG
Pairing: Alex/Olivia
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, but I am using them for entertainment only and not for profit.
Notes: A short, independent piece, subject to further beta-reading before archiving, so forgive any errors. Assume characters look as they did in season 4.
“Alex! What are you doing here?”
“Olivia. Liz told me she's been shot. Is she going to be okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Elliot said immediately. “Apparently she has a hard head.”
Alex blanched. “She was shot in the head?”
“She was shot in the leg - bullet caught the side of her thigh. But she fell and hit her head. Knocked out cold, but man was she mad when she woke up.”
“Are you sure she's okay? How do you know? Have her doctors been out to speak to you?”
Elliot frowned. “If she was seriously hurt, this place would be a sea of blue, with brother officers offering to donate blood.”
“I've offended you. I'm sorry.” Alex frowned and waved her hand in a jerky motion. “I'm just... I... need to know about Olivia.”
Elliot's expression softened. “She's fine. Doctor says she has a concussion and they're probably going to admit her overnight for observation.”
“The bullet wound?”
“Through and through. It's gonna leave a scar to add to her collection and hurt like a sonofabitch for the next few days, but apart from some stitches and antibiotics, she'll be good to go by the time they give her the all-clear on the concussion.”
The relief that flooded through Alex was almost palpable, but with it came embarrassment and she flushed. “You must think I'm a pain in the neck.”
“Nah, we all worry about Liv. We know she's gonna be okay, but Munch, Fin and the Captain just left.” Elliot smiled but she couldn't tell if he genuinely understood or if he thought she was overreacting.
Alex nodded stiffly, still uncomfortable, but apparently unable to follow the example of Olivia's other colleagues and leave. A feeling that he had never associated with the self-contained ADA touched Elliot - something akin to... pity. She was so completely out of her element. He gestured towards the plastic chairs lining the corridor. “If you don't have anything else on your calendar, why don't you stay and keep me company until they let us see her?”
He sat in the molded plastic and watched as Alex lowered herself gingerly and sat on the edge of a chair that was almost next to his. “You know,” he said to break the silence “I knew this week was gonna be weird when Olivia invited me and Kathy to dinner at her place and she actually cooked for us. For someone who never does it, she's actually a great cook. I guess she doesn't see much point in going through all the trouble when it's just her...”
“Cooking brings back bad memories of her mother.” Elliot turned abruptly to face the ADA, but she seemed to have forgotten his presence. “She learned to cook when she was young and she used it as a way to get her mother's approval. She's good at it, but praising her skill makes her feel... conflicted. So she's not comfortable doing it.” She shook her head as if to clear it and looked directly at Elliot. “I... I told you because I want you to understand how significant it is that she invited you to dinner. And she probably won't tell you herself.”
“I didn't realize that you and Liv were so close.” He sounded jealous because he was. Liv was his partner - that was as close as family - and she was his best friend. How could Cabot know something about her that he didn't?
Alex shrugged. “Sometimes, when the cases get to me, she makes me feel better by telling me stories from her past.” She smiled faintly. “And dragging similar confessions from me.”
Elliot couldn't imagine Alexandra Cabot “confessing” to anything less than wearing steel underwear. The woman was cool bordering on cold most of the time, although he had to admit that she had become passionate about the unit and the cases she tried on their behalf. That didn't mean he was convinced that her motivation was more to achieve justice for the victims than to advance her own political career.
He observed her keenly, trying to get a sense of the woman. She was absently twisting the leather strap of her handbag, but the rest of her body was almost unnaturally still, her posture erect. “Did it work?”
It took her a while to make the connection between her previous admission and his question. “Yes... yes, I suppose it did. I can only hope it proved as distracting for her...”
Alex's voice trailed off and she stared at the opposite wall, lost in her own thoughts. It gave Elliot a further opportunity to study her and to think about her recent revelations. When had she and Olivia become that close? Alex worked extensively with both of them, but she didn't work with Olivia that much more than she worked with him. Then again, he lived in Queens and she and Liv both lived in Manhattan, so they tended to go home together...
“Detective Stabler?”
A woman in scrubs had emerged from double doors just to their left and was looking expectantly at the two of them. They both stood up. “I'm Stabler,” Elliot said.
“Are you her partner?” she asked Alex. Elliot opened his mouth to say that no, he was her partner, then he realized what the doctor had meant.
“ADA Alexandra Cabot.” Alex replied, an anxious frown creasing her brow. “Is she going to be all right?”
“She'll be fine. I can even let her go home now if you're willing to keep an eye on her and follow my instructions to the letter. After tomorrow she should be fine on her own, but I won't clear her to return to light duty for five days and unrestricted duty for a week after that. Assuming there are no complications and she sees her own doctor before returning to the field.”
She turned to Elliot. “I've already told her that and she didn't take it well, so I'd like you to advise your commanding officer that I'm adamant about those instructions - no matter what detective Benson implies to the contrary.”
“May we see her now?” Alex seemed to cringe a bit at the pleading tone in her voice. Elliot's eyebrows shot up and he lagged behind slightly when the doctor lead them to the room where Olivia lay seething on a bed.
At the first sight of Olivia's scowl and the energy that bristled off her, Alex's face broke into what Elliot thought was an uncharacteristic smile. But, then, what the heck do I know about Cabot? Certainly less than I know about Olivia - and even that was less than I thought. “Thank you doctor,” was all he said.
The doctor nodded. “These are for you.” She put a set of neatly folded scrubs on the bed next to Olivia. “I'll leave the list of instructions at the nurses' station for Miss Cabot. Get well soon, Detective.”
Olivia managed to mutter her thanks, but with no grace whatsoever. Both of her visitors grinned. “You look great,” Elliot told her, which was true considering the fact that she'd been deathly pale and unconscious two hours earlier.
“She says I might be able to leave?” Olivia looked from Alex to Elliot and back.
“You can, if Alex agrees to babysit you.”
“Define babysit.” Olivia scowled, tentatively touching the bandage that covered a shaved spot on the side of her head.
Wrong question, Elliot thought. You should have asked, 'Why Alex?'. And he realized that when the doctor had asked whether they were partners, Alex hadn't actually denied it. Sure, she'd responded by giving her title, which might have meant she was there in an official capacity, but it could also have been a 'Make sure my woman gets the best possible treatment because I'm a lawyer', couldn't it?
“Did they give you anything for the pain?” Alex asked, her hand resting extremely close to Olivia's bare thigh which was partially wrapped with a white bandage. Olivia was unselfconscious in brief black panties and the black sweater she had been wearing when she had given chase to the man who shot her, even though it had to be encrusted with dried blood.
“They did the stitching under local anesthetic. A nurse was supposed to come in and give me a cup of water to take those,” Olivia gestured toward the bedside table where two blue pills sat in a small paper cup, “ but I think I pissed her off.”
“Or scared her off,” Alex corrected dryly. She didn't imagine that doctors normally handled the delivery of patients' clothing.
Olivia looked sheepish. Elliot stared from one to the other, noticing that neither was looking at him. “Why don't I go to the vending machine and get you a drink - I think the one at the end of the hall sells orange juice.”
“Thanks, El.” Olivia smiled gratefully at him while Alex's attention never wavered from Olivia.
When he returned he had almost convinced himself that they'd be in a clinch on the bed, only to find Olivia wearing the scrubs and Alex sitting demurely in the chair next to the bed. Olivia was complaining about the number of days she would have to be on antibiotics just because of one asshole. He wondered if he was letting his imagination run away with him.
“How's the head?” he asked.
She shrugged. “It's hurt worse. The painkillers are pretty minor-league because of the concussion, but they should do the trick.”
He tilted his head to the side and watched her curiously as she downed the pills with the juice and swung her legs carefully off the side of the bed. She looked different and it wasn't just because of the change of clothes. He stared at her as he picked up the paper bag containing the blood-soaked jeans that had been cut off her, since her holster, shield and cuffs were still attached to the belt, and he watched Alex help her into her black leather jacket. Olivia stubbornly refused to get into the wheelchair that had been left for her, but she had used crutches before and easily propped herself up on the pair that had been provided for her use once she was off the premises.
It wasn't until they were settled in the unmarked car that he'd left at the emergency entrance that Elliot realized what it was that had changed about both women while he'd been buying the orange juice and he chuckled. “You know, Olivia, if you put Alex down as your next of kin, she won't have to wait for Liz to tell her that you've been hurt. And she could have saved you a lot of grief in dealing with the hospital staff who don't realize how mean you can be when you feel helpless.”
“What...?” Alex asked, trying to feign innocence.
“How...? Olivia asked at the same time, because she knew from her partner's tone that he had made up his mind, so denial was pointless.
“Let's just say, Liv,” he replied with a smug smile, “that although I'm no Mac consultant, that shade of lipstick is really better suited to Alex's skin tones. And I'm sure if Alex hadn't been so relieved to see that you're fine, she would have figured out that her own lipstick is just a little bit smudged right now.”