LWM: RIPPLES, chapter 3, New York, NY
Yes, it's been ages, I know!
Ages ago, I wrote this, but never could quiet finish it. Some weeks ago, I made a promise to myself that I would start finishing the LWM backlog of stories, in cronological order. This was first on the list and Jo was instrumental in the completion. Sorry for the delay.
Book 5: Ripples.
Series: Light, Water, Muses. An alternate universe for a variety of television series. See disclaimers below.
Rating: PG-13, beware of warm fuzzies.
Category: The continuing saga of Reflections/ Resurgences/Refractions/Rapids. Begins shortly after Rapids ended
Pairings: Dace/Catherine & Sara, revisited. More 'maybe/maybe not' for Alex/Olivia.
General Disclaimer: This site contains stories between mature, consenting adult females. All characters are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit", see chapter 1.
Disclaimer: "Facts of Life", produced by Embassy Pictures Corporation and TAT Communications Company. Created by Dick Clair and Jenna McMahon.
Spoilers: Nothing specific.
Summary: Olivia prepares to move on and return a piece of Dace to her. Alex loses out. Gloria is reunited with her childhood heroes. Michael becomes more a part of Jo's life.
Part 4
New York, New York
++ Alex Cabot ++
(still 2-11-02)
"I didn't keep my promise to you."
For a moment, I am convinced I am hallucinating again. My desperation for Olivia has me so knotted up that I am virtually useless in all capacities. Why? Oh who the hell knows. There is only amorphorous hope in something that sparks between us every time we meet. That something is what I so desperately miss in my life.
Miss desperately enough to keep hearing her voice in the corridors of where our lives once overlapped. Then there is a whisper of sound, like fabric over flesh, and the scrape of shoe soles on my office floor. Awareness makes my skin tingle, and I freeze as though hunted by something large and dangerous.
It can't be…
Unwillingly, against the railing rant of the still-sane and shrinking fast part of my brain, I slowly turn away from the file cabinet that holds my banal life.
Olivia Benson looks just like I remember her. Strong, powerful, self-assured, personality oozing from every pore. There is new information in her dark eyes, though. A new purpose, a lightness to her body that speaks of the roots she has already pulled up from this wintry city.
Oh… oh no…
I'm too late.
++ Olivia ++
How have I never noticed how expressive she is? The shades of her eyes and the shift of her classic face is like watching Zo paint, a pleasure I'd experienced far too briefly in Chicago. Pain flashes through me that I've hurt her, even as I know there was nothing else I can do. Dace and her family are my family now too, and I need that connection more and more every day. Even this siren's call cannot snuff out the new strength of purpose I have found with once-strangers.
But walking away from her is going to be even harder than I thought.
The silence between us stretches into infinity, the noise of the legal building around us fading away. My memories play out everything I have seen so recently, the loves that had grown while I watched on.
I move without thought, without thinking.
The huff of Alex's deep voice, her mouth hot and open against mine, her slender strength tight against my sturdier curves: in this heartbeat of time, feeling her for the second and probably last time, I know that I have waited for someone like her for a very long time.
Aw damn…
"I promised to come home to you safe," I whisper, aching at the chasm between us. "And now I've found a home somewhere else." Reluctantly stepping away, giving up my touch on her body, I let my heart shine in my eyes. "I'm sorry."
There is nothing else to say, nothing else to do… but walk away with my heavy heart.
++ Elliot Stabler ++
This story is not supposed to end this way.
Staring sightlessly at the box between my feet, I wonder when I lost my copy of the script. Lost the page where it says; 'Benson moves to Las Vegas.'
I'm losing the best thing that's happened to me since Kathy and my kids.
A gentle hand on my shoulder jerks my thoughts back to the present, and I look up into my wife's understanding eyes. She has been my rock for so long, and will be my rock through losing Olivia as well. I try to convey my gratitude in my eyes.
Touching Kathy's hand and shaking off my brooding, I continue to press clear tape over the seam of the cardboard box between my knees. "You've got a lot of shit for a single woman who's never home," I comment idly, wincing when Kathy cuffs me in the head. Oops, forgot there are kids here. Grinning sheepishly at my wife, she sighs mockingly and the others laugh. After the initial shock at the one-six, we all jumped in to help get Liv packed up to start her new life. Munch is horsing around verbally with Olivia where they stand, deciding on the fate of the furniture. It's gonna suck so bad not having her around…
The downstairs buzzer grabs all of our attention. "Who the hell could that be?" Olivia wonders out loud and heads for her phone. "Hello? Jo! Good to hear from you. Sure, come on up." Hanging up the phone, she turns a brilliant grin on the rest of us. "Another pair of hands is coming up. This is the first I've seen of Jo since Chicago. Damn shame Dace isn't here."
Dace… the mystery woman who changed the heart of this die-hard New Yorker. I want to hate her, I want it so bad that I can taste it… but I can't. Something changed Olivia during that case in Chicago, and the mysterious Dace had been the catalyst. Olivia is shedding a lifetime of hurt and personal drama, and it seems the sky is the limit. There's a lightness to her step, a bright blaze in the darkness of her eyes that I have never seen with such force. Whatever happened to her, it's meant to be.
I'll give up the woman who has been an extension of me for three years, because I love her like I love my family. But I sure as hell won't like it.
Dammit.
++ Michael ++
Truthfully, I had made Jo's pursuit of me far more difficult than necessary. At the time, I think I wanted the ego-stroking of her focused attention to soothe my battered psyche. It is, coincidentally, a month since Jo and Gloria tracked me down and began to assault my fortress of solitude. The teen is a firecracker, and I plan on keeping a close eye on her to encouraging all that potential.
The three of us ride the elevator quietly, my hands resting lightly at the back of their necks, the touch not proprietary, but affectionate. Both lean into me, making me feel warm and loved.
Olivia's expression is classic in the truest sense of the word. Eyes wide, she stares for a moment before giving me a wry grin. "You still look better than Dace." That earns my laughter and a big hug and I know that I will miss having her here in this city.
"How is she doing? Tessa's been keeping the network informed, but I'd like to hear it from you."
Pain, hope and respect war in those dark eyes. "Better. She hurts so bad all the time, but she found Lindsey and Emily, and they're like her. And she has Catherine and she and Sara are building a bond, and the Lady likes Dace, which makes her feel good. I'll tell you, she's the strongest person I know, after what she's been through and is still smiling."
A slow grin twitches my face, reminding me of the fading bruises in my flesh, same as Dace. "She's always been like that. When she walked away from us, it was like losing a sibling. When she came back, I think it only reminded us how much we all adored her. It was never really a party unless that punk was there."
Chuckling, Liv turns her hug on Jo, and they cling tightly to each other as I herd Gloria in ahead of me. She is having trouble keeping her eyes off of Olivia, and brave-nervous, looks at the small crowd in the apartment. I know the faces and remember many of the stories, hell, John Munch is a regular client of the Spades, but I wonder if Gloria will recognize Elliot.
I keep my hands resting lightly on the girl's shoulders for moral support while the detectives figure out who she is.
++ Gloria ++
Hanging out with the Archangels and Jo and Jamie and Pai and Boot has been some of the most rewarding times of my life. Pragmatic, fun and protective without being overbearing, they are probably the best crowd for me to hang with in this city that haunts me.
Truthfully, I don't recognize anything about New York. After all, it's not like I was here on some kind of field trip last time, but just knowing is nerve-wracking. This is the city where I had been raped and tortured so brutally, leaving me with the haunting scars in my skin, and the even thicker ones on my mind and soul. Sure, I've recovered as well as to be expected… But I never forget. Never. Every moment awake or asleep, the memories hover at the edges of my mind. Over time, I've gotten accustomed to them, even drawing strength from them. Nightmares and phobias still get me sometimes, but I do my best to take each day as it comes and prepare for my future.
Olivia's eyes skim over me without recognizing me, but I'd've been shocked if she had. There are days I hardly recognized myself, when the brutalized ten-year-old inside me is feeling particularly vulnerable.
Feeling nervous and a little twitchy around these strangers, I let myself be anchored by Michael's strong hands on my shoulders. There is something familiar about the big man with the military haircut, but not in a bad way. Then Jo's voice brings my attention to her as she steps over. "Gloria, you remember Olivia," Jo smiles, her arm around the taller brunette's shoulders.
"Never forget her," I grin back, watching the empathetic brown eyes I remember vividly. There is still no recognition, but Olivia holds out a welcoming hand I take eagerly.
"I'm sorry, Gloria, but I seem to be blanking," she starts to say, then her voice trails off and her eyes grow round. "Gloria…"
"Hi, Officer Benson," I greet her warmly, welcoming the suffocating hug I'm suddenly wrapped in. How I love these kind of big, warm embraces from people I trust.
"I didn't even recognize you," Olivia is saying, leaning away only far enough to study my face. "You look wonderful."
"The Amazons have been really good to me and Aunt Kali," I beam at this second hero of my child self. "I've been looking forward to talking to you since the Staff and Scroll in Chicago."
"You were at that club?"
Her disbelief makes me laugh. "I'll be sixteen at the end of July. There are levels of the club where I can legally work. I bus tables at the underage club, and do some janitorial work and stuff. More of my time is spent on school, I promise."
Mollified, Olivia hugs me again, and I sigh happily, especially when Jo adds herself to the cling by pressing herself against my back and squeezing us both.
++ Jo ++
Packing Liv up turns into an impromptu party that includes a never-ending stream of cops and easily half the large apartment building. Not to mention the many handfuls of locals, coming by with a word or a little gift for a favored keeper of the peace. Liv is as gracious as a princess; a small conversation, a hug, and many thanks for each and every one of them. At some point in the crush, Rick brings Jamie by for what will inevitably turn into a sleep-over for some of us.
Alex Cabot snuck in with the setting sun, looking pale and tragic. Damn shame those two hadn't figured out what the hell their chemistry was before it was too late.
(2-12-02)
Inhaling lazily across mucous membranes gone dry, I climb blearily from sleep and look around. When the hell had I finally fallen asleep? Instantly, I look around for Jamie, relieved to see her on Olivia's mattress on the floor, curled up at my feet near Gloria. Their sweet little crush on each other cracks me up. Michael's body is sprawled across the strange, inflatable couch-bed thing that Stabler provided that has miraculously retained its basic shape and has been surprisingly comfy to sleep on. Her head is pillowed on my lap, dark hair warming my fingers where they cup around her scalp. Soft voices catch my attention and I stroke Michael's hair as I listen.
"Never would have pictured you going to Vegas, of all places," murmurs Stabler in a carefully neutral tone that is absolute bullshit. He's grieving his upcoming loss and trying to be so brave. Men…
"Yeah, I know," Liv sighs back, her conflict making my heart ache. "But it just feels right. I can't explain it. There's so much I haven't done, always using mom or my past or the job as an excuse to stay put. Suddenly, I need to see and do things I haven't seen and done, you know?"
"Yeah, I can understand that. New York's not going to be the same without you, though."
"Yeah."
A grumble of protest escapes me at the dryness in my throat, and I cursed my interruption as shadowy heads turned my way.
Dammit.
++ Olivia ++
Before I can react to Jo's small, uncomfortable sound, Elliot presses me into the battered futon that had once been my guest bed and would be charity tomorrow. "I got it. Stay with Alex."
Ah yes, Alex. Too wound up to sleep, I have nevertheless found a certain bittersweet peace in stroking the platinum hair feathered over my lap. It just sort of happened, one minute Alex had been chowing on pizza and beer with stiffly uncomfortable posture, then she'd started to sag like an aging helium balloon. That is how I've come to be her pillow.
Her breath is warming certain strategic parts of my anatomy that I'd much rather be ignoring right about now. So I cock an ear out for Elliot and Jo.
"What's up?"
"Thirsty, but I'm pinned down."
"Hang on." Ice cubes slosh in water as Elliot rummages in the ice chest and plastic crackles as the cap is twisted. "Here you go."
A sharp inhalation, lusty sucking noises that almost sounded dirty, and Jo makes a happy kitten noise. "You're a lifesaver, Stabler."
Morning is gray and sullen in the window. Have we been up all night talking? Sure looks like it and my eyes are burning badly enough as proof. It has been impossible to stop stroking Alex's soft hair and wonder what could have been. For the whole night, Elliot and I reminisced, retracing the relationship that has defined our partnership. More than my partner, the guy who watches my back and keeps me from going too far, this singular man is my friend.
And the pale beauty in my lap is a taste of what could be… no… what could have been.
The melancholia that I've been fighting all night is shattered by the shrill blast of my telephone. Not a soul in my apartment doesn't jump like someone shot out a window, followed by a chorus of moans and groans. Moaning in bleary shock, Alex cradles her skull, obviously nursing a sore neck. "Hey, relax," I urge quietly, pressing her head back to my lap. "The machine'll get it."
Michael grumbles something that makes Jamie gasp in shock, then giggle guiltily.
"What did you say?" Jo asked suspiciously before squeaking in a mildly sexual kinda way. Bet she just got goosed or something similar. On the forth ring, the ancient answering machine clicks loudly, hissing out it's staticy message in my barely-out-of-teens voice. "Jeezus," Jo grumbles, voice straining around a stretch. "That's the same damn message you've had since college."
"Hey Dobie," comes a familiar and much-missed voice. The room goes instantly quiet, all ears trained on Dace's tone. She sounds happy and sad all at once, still blurry with painkillers. "Just wanted to let you know we were headed home tomorrow afternoon and we oughta make it in early Valentines. Miss you, hope you're having a good time." A sleepy little groan tinnily echoes through the speaker, making me grin.
"Miss you, Liv," Lindsey adds sleepily, her voice barely close enough to the speaker to be heard. Dace's throaty, distinctively feline chuckle warms my apartment for a moment, almost close enough to touch, and I'm shocked to realize just how much I miss all of them.
++ Alex ++
Olivia doesn't have to say it. The gentle smile on her beautiful face is enough. That voice… if had to be her. Since I can't bring myself to hate Olivia, I will hate her new partner instead. It effectively ruins the morning for me, burning away the calm pleasure of being so close to her. Even in sleep, I'd been aware of her firm warmth against ear, head, shoulder; the sweet touch of her hand in my hair.
"That was her?"
Stabler beat me to the question, braver than I.
"Yeah," Olivia says shortly, adoration and discomfort laced through her tone. "And Lindsey."
"The kid?"
"Yeah. She's so much like Dace. I think you guys would like both of them."
There it is again, that loving thrum in her voice that makes me so jealous that tears come to my eyes. How I have always wanted that for myself, how chicken-shit and self-delusional I've been. Disgusted with myself, I manage to sit up and carefully crack my sore neck. "I should go," I murmur, trying not to cringe at the welcome warmth and weight of her hand on my shoulder. The teens bursting into giggles signals my escape, grateful for the distraction.
Shockingly, I make it to the street before she catches up with me. "Alex!" Despite myself, I stop, shivering in the cold. After a moment, weight settles over my shoulders, smelling of the woman I will miss so much. "Keep it," Olivia says quietly, running those coveted hands down my arms, stimulating the nerves, hitching my breath. "I won't need it anymore, and I'd like that a part of me stays with you."
"Thank you," I whisper brokenly, wishing that the embrace of the heavy leather was her arms… that she would never leave me. The thought brings burning tears to my eyes, blurring my vision, and I desperately wave at the passing yellow blur of a taxi. "You should go back to your guests, I've… I've got to go." Smiling weakly, trying to pull my heart out of her hands, I blather, "work… y'know."
There is no reaction, just that hang-dog face, the dark eyes overly bright.
It is an image that will haunt me for a long, long time.
++ Ingle ++
It's slow, no surprise. Tuesdays aren't exactly the high point of everybody's social life. I've spent my slow day rearranging the bar, filled with a restless energy that feels dimly familiar. The sensation has been building for years, like the slow growing of stalactites in a dark cave.
The time is coming near now, building like a wave in the deep ocean that will break over the land as a tsunami. Humankind has no clue what was coming down the pipe at it. The industrial revolution had been a lousy time to be recharging in my kaer. Not to mention an even worse time to sleep in, so to speak.
It's stunning, really, how quickly humankind forgot its true past. When the magic levels had fallen to such minute levels, all evidence of the world I once lived in… simply vanished. All that was left was the humans, the core race that spawned all the others had forgotten, and I was alone.
Well, alone enough to be a bit insane with it, for those that shared my so very rare immortality are no friends of mine.
The door slams open and a well-liked and familiar voice bellows into the afternoon quiet, "what's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?"
My pair of regulars ignore and smirk respectively, as I grin at Olivia. "Beg me, Benson."
There is a whole crowd with the swarthy cop, and they come in brushing snow off. Tossing her coat over a booth back, my cop pal sashays over with a look in her eye like she wants more than a drink. So I obligingly lean over the counter and give her a flirtatious eyebrow. Imagine my shock when Olivia Benson, often too serious for her boots, meets me halfway across the bar top and plants a warm kiss on me. "Please?" She flirts, batting dark eyelashes and I can't help but laugh. But I see something that she's hiding from her companions, cupping her cheek to keep the curious, dark eyes on mine.
Olivia grows still, caught in the lingering magic of my gaze. Even the most self-controlled of the human race can be cracked by the faint, lingering mana in my True Pattern. The pain of this strong woman, the determination, the history there in her gaze, it speaks to me as clear as language. Understanding the tough decision she has made, I lean over the counter and give Olivia a warm, gentle kiss, right above her eyes.
"Sometimes, the right decision is the hardest."
++ Olivia ++
Unnerved by the exchange, but somehow relieved by it, I watch as Ingle is suddenly acting like herself again. Coming around the bar, she went to my entourage with her usual magnanimous charm. Jamie and Gloria seem in awe of the tall, unusual woman, the adults only slightly more composed.
We all settle down to lunch, jovially shouting a round of 'hellos' as Gabe and the pups arrive unexpectedly. Hugs and kisses are traded around, and I am heartened by the powerful grip of the man around my smaller frame. "It'll work out, love. You'll see."
For some reason, it never feels like weakness to be vulnerable with Gabe, there is something so big-brotherly about him. So, I take a moment to lean on his strength, finally straightening up with a sigh. "Thanks Gabe."
He grins brilliantly and kisses me on the nose before straightening up and gesturing Boot over. "Anytime, Liv. Michael and I were hoping that you could help us with an important favor."
"Anything," I agree easily and laugh when he gives me a dry look. "Okay, anything within reason." From the brown-paper package in Boot's hands, comes a well-loved leather jacket that I immediately recognize. "Dace's jacket?" I question, confused, and then it suddenly hits me.
The doctors cut the heavy leather garment away from her broken body.
Humbled, I take the weight of it in my hands, see the memories of the blood-streaked hide, see the sheen of new oil and love in the careworn surface. Like scars, there are neat stitches of heavy, industrial waxed thread that run from collar to cuff along the right arm where scissors had sawed through it. Flipping over the once-bisected collar and shoulder, I note that the stitches are visible on both sides. The work is clean and neat and if not for the faintly visible slice beneath the stitches, it would almost look deliberate. The boys remain quiet as the flash of white on the back catches my eye.
Shuffling around the weight, I hold the jacket up, studying it carefully. Most of the symbols are faded badly, an ace of diamonds card and a red chess piece, but the ghostly lion's eyes on the shoulder blades visually leap off the leather in their newly embroidered glory. The image is startling in its realness, hints of gold and blue in the irises, a fading image of the black stripes bracketing a cougar's nose trailing between them.
"A friend of ours cleaned, fixed and embroidered that for us," Michael's voice says quietly behind me. "We would be grateful if you would return it to its rightful owner."
"My pleasure," I whisper, shrugging the well-loved old garment onto my own body, catching a whiff of Dace's smell hiding beneath the dry cleaning chemicals. "She's going to be ecstatic that you rescued it."
"Our pleasure," Gabe smiles.
++ Michael ++
(2-13-02)
Last night, I'd taken Olivia to the airport, where my pack, Jo, the teens, and Elliot, hugged the woman goodbye and watched her and the distinctive leather jacket vanish into the depths of LaGuardia Airport. Jamie wasn't the only one who sniffled and needed a hug after that. Regretting being separated from Jo and her fascinating child, I dropped everybody off at their respective abodes and returned home, desperately needing to get some real work done today.
But Jamie had surprised me, pressing a note into my hand as she followed her mother out of the limo. Reading it yet again, I trace the neat handwriting with a finger. 'There's a family Valentine's get together every year. I'd like it if you'd come. Wednesday, the 13th. Come by at 6 and I'll make you and mom dinner. Apartment 12, fourth floor.'
How can I say no to that?
So, terrified out of my mind at meeting the Polniaczek clan, I gather up the things I am never without and head for the garage, shrugging into my best camel-hair trench coat. A couple quick stops and I am back at the apartment building with the popular bar taking up the bottom two floors, the neon 'Rosa Jo' lighting the evening dark.
In truth, I'm scared to death of what I am headed into. My feelings for Jo are well known to me, but the trappings that come with her are pretty much foreign territory. Sure, Jamie had been the biggest hurdle, and we've become buddies of sorts, but the whole damn clan?
The burly man stepping from the elevator where I wait, gives me an appraising glance that I ignore. On the fourth floor, I step out and again pause with nerves. It's just wrong that I am this petrified, and yet so very telling. Fear and fact fight in my head. Only true love could make me such a wreck.
It is reassuring and nerve-wracking all at once.
There are only four doors, and I take a deep breath before rapping just below the prominent plaque marked '12'.
++ Jamie ++
Meeting mom's girlfriend had been bizarre, but she makes one heck of an impression. Intense, intelligent, and dangerous, with a smile that lights up her whole face, the gorgeous Michael is something else. Watching her with mom is sweet. They're an odd couple, sure, but they fit nicely. So, I took a chance and invited her to join the whole family.
Call it a test, sorta.
A knock makes me jump, heart racing. Is it her?
"Is that someone at the door?" Mom calls from her room as I race to answer.
"Got it!" I yell and look through the peephole, restraining a yell of success. Michael flinches when I yank the door open, but smiles, the expression a little queasy. "Hi! You made it!"
"It's been a long time since I had such a nice offer," Michael grins and brings up one hand with a single rose. "Happy Valentine's Day." Startled, I take the pretty flower, a deep, rich coral color, and smell it.
"Mmm," I hum happily at the amazing scent.
"Pink means friendship," Michael says softly, and I look into the strange, pale eyes, more gold than brown, and feel a connection to her.
"Friends," I offer, giving her a hug, startling her.
++ Jo ++
That knock is probably more of my idiot cousins stopping by, looking for a handout. You'd think the bar would be enough to corral the herd, but there are always a few overenthusiastic ones around at these family get-togethers. It is always fun, always wild and always exhausting.
Maybe someday, Michael would want to be a part of the chaos.
Sighing wistfully, I finish putting on my earrings, cute little ruby studs my father gave me years ago, and head for the kitchen. This is one of the few times I like to dress up a bit, if nothing else, because it gives my cousins a shock.
"Who was at the door, honey?" I ask Jamie as I walk past the front door…
To freeze dead in my tracks.
As though conjured by my wistful wishes, there is Jamie, hugging Michael, right on the threshold of our home. Sheepishly, terror and fondness in her gaze, my lover winds an arm around Jamie's shoulders, a wine bottle and bouquet of red roses dangling from her fingers, and smiles at me. Immediately, those eyes change, raking over me, bringing up all the complicated emotions and hormones that she always does. Handing the bottle and roses to Jamie, Michael stalks over to me, expression intense.
"You look lovely," she compliments softly, her tone more vulnerable than I've ever heard it.
"Michael," I breathe idiotically, my brain still on pause.
But I snap out of it when she leans into me with intent, once more lost in the taste and feel of the mouth that unravels me without fail. A moment or an hour or a lifetime might pass, my knees quiver in time to more vulnerable parts of my anatomy, before we separate enough to make eye contact again. It is supremely strange to be nearly eye to eye with her, as I am actually wearing a bit of a heel.
"Jamie invited me," Michael says hesitantly. "And…"
"And what?" I hear myself ask, touching the gorgeous face I love so.
"And…and I want to be a part of your life. Really be a part of it. I've held back for too long."
It is the nicest gift anyone has offered me in a long, long time.
++ Michael ++
Well, that went well. Slightly less petrified of the gathering family throng downstairs, I cuddle with Jo for another minute, and we laugh when we notice that the front door is closed and locked with Jamie nowhere to be seen. Snorting with amusement, Jo presses her face into the side of my head for a moment, breathing against my ear. It is sexy and comforting all at once.
"Must have given up on us paying any attention," she whispers softly, and I am relieved to hear familiar arousal in her tone, hidden beneath the amusement and nerves. Leaning back, she eyes me critically for a moment, amusing me. "You really came over here to brave my family?"
"Yes ma'am," I grin, giving her a squeeze.
"You're either braver than I thought or completely out of your mind."
"Just head over heels."
How I love that soft, adoring look on her expressive face.
"Come eat!" Jamie calls from the direction of whatever smells so yummy and we adults obediently follow orders. Dinner is ravioli that Jamie says her gramma Rosa made from scratch and a savory sauce of the teen's own making. Since it is spinach and cheese and a meatless sauce, at least I don't have to worry about something heavy upsetting my stomach and eat heartily of the delicious meal.
To my amusement, Jamie chatters at me as though we've been friends forever and asks any question that comes to her mind. Jo's baffled and pleased gaze weaves between us and the dozen deep red roses I'd brought for her, now arranged in a vase, thanks to Jamie.
We laugh together, and I even dare reach over and poke Jamie in the ribs to make her laugh harder. Whatever misgivings I've harbored for so long are melting away, even as I know there is one more major hurdle to jump.
++ Charlie Polniaczek ++
Finally having achieved an age to be wise, I've learned to be appreciative of my life. Once I'd made the right choices, things just seemed to work out for me. The bar, and the warren of apartments above, is a dream come true, keeping business and family at a central hub, tying us all the closer together.
Kids, grandkids, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, friends; all of that and more gather at the bar where I have poured my heart, soul, sweat and money into every brick, tile and light bulb. This sprawling bar is named after the two girls that will always be first in my heart. The first returns my sentimental grin from where she is holding court at the main bar and for the thousandth time, I thank my lucky stars that I'd gotten a clue and half-killed myself to win back my first and only love, my beloved Rosa.
My other sweetheart is still missing in action.
As though conjured by my thoughts, the swinging doors from the lobby sweep inward, admitting my swaggering granddaughter, grinning like a silly fool. There is a loud ripple of welcome, that halves in volume quite abruptly. There is my only child, the light of my life and the pride of my heart… on the arm of a simply striking woman.
It isn't the woman part that startles me, but that there is a significant other here at all. Both look petrified, but brave, as the silence deepens and Jamie begins to scowl. This is the mysterious Michael then. The clothes should have been a dead giveaway, because jeans and a casual shirt could only look so good on a woman bred for elegance and high class. Not to mention the faded bruises on her face that now illustrate the heavily edited version of events that took place in Chicago on that last case that effects my baby so deeply.
Time for dad to step in and do his best to make it all better.
Striding quickly towards my daughter, I hold open my arms for a hug, magnanimous and accepting of her, as always. "Jo, sweetheart. You were making your old man worry!"
"Sorry, papa," she murmurs, returning the hug with only one and a half arms. Bet she's still clinging to the girlfriend then. Cupping her beautiful face, I smile warmly.
"You look beautiful," I compliment and she blushes a bit. So shy about her good looks! Then I give her cheeks a squeeze and turn my focus on the woman beside her.
++ Michael ++
Shrewd and familiar blue eyes turn to me, a quick examination that is more thorough than some doctors I've seen. "You're Michael, then."
"Yes sir," I reply immediately, the honorific rolling easily off my tongue. Quickly transferring Jo's tight grip to my forearm, I offer a hand to the man. "Pleased to meet you."
An older woman strides through the awakening crowd, every inch as intense and curious as this man. "So, they finally persuaded you to come," she comments shrewdly and I startle at Jamie's slender body pressed into the opposite side as her mother. It is a humbling gesture of acceptance, and I have to smile.
"I see where Jo and Jamie get their good looks."
Startled, father laughs and mother looks pleased, though she quickly hides it under a classical Italian scowl. "What kind of name is Michael for a woman? You are lucky that we knew who you were!"
"It's a nickname, ma'am," I hasten to explain. "My best friend's name is Gabriel."
It takes a moment for the joke to compute, then the older woman laughs prettily, reminding me powerfully of her daughter and granddaughter, pressed into my ribs.
"Michael and Gabriel, very funny," abruptly she goes serious, peering at me closely. "But what is your name?"
The dreaded name is furnished with the possibly the least amount of reluctance since I started becoming my own person as a young child. "It's Grace. Grace la Magne."
"Grace. Much better. Pleased to meet you, Grace. I am Rosa, and this is Charlie." Her handshake is warm, dry, solid, just like her voice and temperament.
Maybe this won't be so bad after all.
++ Jo ++
It's hard to believe how relieved I am that my folks like Michael. That girlie name that mom had pressed out of her still doesn't fit her. She will always be Michael to me. During the course of the evening, she had put several idiot cousins and a lecherous uncle in their place, the polite smile never fading. Those of my clan that display class and intelligence are treated accordingly, and the impression of my unusual lover will linger for some time.
"So, I owe you a thank you," I tell my daughter conversationally where she is chattering with Gloria. Gabriel brought the teen with him when he arrived about half and hour ago and the girls have picked up right where they'd left off at Liv's place. Jamie regards me thoughtfully before smiling, a faintly lecherous expression that both amuses me and makes me cringe.
"For inviting Michael?"
The innocent act falls short, and she squeals with laughter as I twist around to tickle her fiercely for a moment. "Yes, for inviting Michael," I admit warmly, holding her close for a long moment. Then a ripple through the crowd makes us look to the front doors.
"Fashionably late as always," Jamie chuckles as the females of the Warner clan frame themselves in the doorway, followed up by the ever patient Tad. As always, there is a brief current of reaction to my old pal, still gorgeous after all these years and, as usual, I shove it down.
"Excuse us, Gloria," I murmur distractedly, even as I notice my dad headed for the doorway where the Warner matriarch waits patiently. "We have to go say hello."
"Okay," she says softly and I made a mental note to get her some trusted company ASAP.
"I'll stay put, mom," Jamie volunteers, warming me with her sensitivity. "Aunt Blair can come over to me once she's done wowing the crowd." The fond sarcasm isn't lost on either of us and I hug her quickly before moving to join my father.
++ Blair Warner ++
Twenty-two years has made her no less attractive, no less appealing. As is life-long habit now, I do my best to squelch down the 'what if' game my mind and emotions insist on playing with me every time I interact with Jo Polniaczek. For once, the game is a short this time as my mother makes a pleased sound at the presence of a slender brunette that materializes at Jo's shoulder. The way my old pal leans into her is not lost on me.
"Michael?" Mother says with pleased disbelief. "What an unusual surprise, to see you here."
"Monica," the sultry brunette smiles, taking my mother's offered hands and trading the little cheek kiss that is such a stamp of our privileged lives. "These are your lovely daughters I presume?"
Then I realize with a sick jolt in my stomach who this is. The slow, knowing smile as the Archangel Michael accepts my woodenly offered hand, clues me in that she knows who I am as well. All those trips to the territory of the Amazons to play out the rough sexual fantasies inspired by the woman at her side come back to me now in loving detail. "Blair," Michael purrs softly, making my nerves arc and my skin flush. "Jo's mentioned you," she adds wryly, and I nearly cringe at how knowingly she looked at me. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Her touch is warm and gentle, and I am torn by the press her mouth so briefly on my knuckles. Before I can stammer out something coherent, Michael turns her attention to my little sister and her smile changes from sensual to friendly. "And you, of course, are Bailey."
It is the youngest of us that really pours on the charm, as Bailey bats her eyes coquettishly at the attractive brunette. "So pleased to meet you, Michael. Are you friends with Jamie and Aunt Jo?"
The small smile dancing around the corner of that full mouth as Michael looks at Jo makes my heart ache and Bailey to chuckle. "You could say that," the woman purrs and Jo flushes, slapping her away affectionately.
"Would you two go check on Gloria for me?"
We all watch the aristocratic woman escort Bailey to where Jamie and a unknown teen are seated, before Mother breaks the small quiet. "Quite a catch you've made there, Jo." Charlie made a small, strangled sound of amusement, for which Jo flushes tellingly and elbows him in the ribs. Despite myself, I have to chuckle along with Mother, even as she takes Jo's arm and drags her back towards the party. "Tell me all about it."
The wry look Jo flashes her is both amusing and telling. "I think I'd rather not tell you everything, Monica."
Knowing Michael's line of work with the Four Suites, my half-hearted hopes couldn't handle it.
++ Michael ++
(2-14-02)
"I enjoyed meeting your family."
Half-asleep, Jo snorts in amusement and rolls onto her back with a sultry grin. After a long night of dinner with Jamie, the party at Rosa-Jo's, some sensuous snacks and lovemaking beneath the stars, this ranks right up there with the most stressful and successful of my Valentines. Some of my thoughts must show on my face, because Jo twists to sit up and straddle my hips with a sexy grin.
"Yes, I think they quite enjoyed meeting you as well," she smirks and I am treated to a teasing caress over chest and sternum. Somehow the lovemaking of this night has felt different. Every time I accept this singular woman closer to my heart, it offsets the vulnerability with the pleasure of the bond. "What?" Jo asks curiously at my goofy grin.
"My fears in letting you all the way in are unfounded, cherie." The look of pleased surprise on her lovely face makes me grin wider. My native tongue doesn't slip very often. "The French is proof enough how much I love and trust you."
"Ah yes," she smiles, bending to rest her weight on both elbows, tumbling that near-black hair over us. "Your mysterious background." Thoughtfully, she taps her lower lip, entirely ignoring the way our bodies nestle. Curious and amused at her playfulness, I remain passive, merely stroking the lean lines of hips and thighs. "The accent's wrong for Louisiana, Gloria pointed that out, though you slip into it when talking to Grand Dame." Despite the teasing note in Jo's voice, I realize that I have told her so very little about myself. Sensing the shift in emotions, Jo's smile fades to concern. "What is it?"
"There's things about myself that I've never told anyone," says my mouth, completely independent of my upper brain, where my fears are so firmly housed. "Gabe knows some, so does KC and the other original Aces, but not all of it." Fear and cynicism twist my face for a moment, and Jo sweetly soothes that stress away. "I'm not sure I even remember it all."
There is something so empathetic in that bright blue gaze, that tears suddenly rise up in a suffocating wave. "You left France for a good reason." Wordlessly, I can only nod. "I've told you once, and I'll tell you again, that you tell me when you're ready. Whatever you once were, I love what you have become."
++ Jo ++
Well, it isn't at all the way I figured my Valentine's Day to go, but somehow, this is even better than the sweetness and sex. Tears aren't something I associate with my strong lover, but she had sobbed quietly against my shoulder for some time before dozing off. I know the sound of that pain, the look in her darkened eyes. Traumatized children grow into adults that bear those same scars.
Michael has trusted me enough to glimpse the hurt little Grace within her strong soul.
Humbled by the trust, I cradle her body with mine, listening to her murmur in her sleep, the restlessness chasing away rest. The French sounds different somehow, despite the words being gibberish to me, I can sense the feel of them. When she sobs out, "mere, my mere, je regrette (mother, my mother, I'm sorry)", I finally have to wake her. "Michael," I whisper, firming the stroking of her dark hair, trying not to startle her unduly. While I have never see the extent of how dangerous she can really be, I know better than to test my luck. After a moment, the tension in her body changes, and I look to see her eyelids flutter open.
Long moments pass before my lover speaks up quietly. "How's your history?"
Huh? "Okay, I guess. Why?"
"Charlemagne ascended to King of the Franks in the eighth century," Michael lectures in a flat monotone that belies her stress. "I could bore you to tears with tomes of information I still have memorized, but you can look on wikipedia for that." I refrain from chuckling, because this is serious to her, even as I have no clue where she's going with it. "I grew up in a commune, for lack of a better description, deep in the heart of wild France. According to family history, I am the last in a long line of eldest born, directly descended from Charles the Great."
It's an impressive linage for sure, but what on earth has her so tense?
"Are you worried that my opinion of you will change?"
Startled, Michael raises herself up to meet my eyes.
++ Michael ++
It actually never occurred to me to worry that my 'royal heritage' would change the way she regards me. That is not at all her style. Mutely, I shake my head and she smiles before tugging me down for a warm kiss. "Good. I'm glad you know me that well. Now, tell me what's really bothering you."
This is it.
I have never been completely honest about my past, not at school, not with the Marine Corps, not with KC and Gabe.
Only Grand Dame knows the entire story.
"My family," both of us flinch at the venom in my tone, but I sink back to the haven of Jo's body and I force myself to continue. "Suffers from a horrible legacy of insanity from isolation, ignorance and inbreeding. The monster that fathered me has been institutionalized for his entire life, no more useful to society than a rabid animal. My grandfather," I sharpen my teeth on that word, once again refusing to speak that bastard's name. "Knew that steps had to be taken to preserve the lineage and managed to find a curly branch of the family tree who had immigrated to America."
"Grand Dame?" Jo guesses in a gentle voice and strokes my hair as I nod.
"They weren't doing well here, poor and with family dying from ill health and poor working and living conditions. Louisiana can be a harsh place, but lovely. Grand Dame's daughter," my voice goes hoarse with tears, the pain has never lessened. "Sold herself to my bastard grandfather to be put in with the monster that fathered me."
The hug is fierce and I am strengthened.
"I never knew her. I never even knew this part of the story until I met Grand Dame when I was twelve years old. My cousins and I were raised in a convent-like setting with no contact with the outside world. No TV, no phone, no newspaper. Our only information was books, and we had a library that was amazing. Our lives were stuck back in the past. Psychologically, we learned ruthless mind games from the adults and practiced on one another."
++ Jo ++
I had guessed a long time ago that something tortures Michael. Hearing her very accurate descriptions of an insular cult upbringing begins to explain a great many things. After some time, I realize that there seems to be no more of the story coming and I nuzzle Michael's head.
"So, Grand Dame found you and brought you here?" my tone is conversational and calm, soothing Michael, who nods against my throat. "And you obviously finished school, and with high marks if I know you," I tease gently and feel her mouth quirk in a half-grin. "Then became a Marine, no mean feat, a lawyer, got yourself in with a business empire you now run? Do I have it right?"
"Yes," Michael sounds sweetly pleased and exasperated and I congratulate myself on handling her right.
"I think she'd be proud, but that's me. I know Grand Dame is and I have that straight from the old horse's mouth."
Calm settles over my lover, even as tears still wet my skin for long minutes. Part of me marvels at this intimacy, the ease of it and that either of us has taken this step at all. Even the buzz of the ingrained 'relationship panic' in my brain is just white noise that I easily ignore. The vulnerability of my heart has always been worth it with her.
In a single fluid motion that is so her, Michael tightens her grip and flips us over so that I am now on top, looking into her softened features. Ignoring the tingle in my oxygen-starved right arm, I watch her face as she touches mine softly, humbled by the childlike trust I've never seen so clearly before.
"Thank you," she whispers so softly and so hoarsely that I can barely hear. A soft kiss calms us both and I remain with our foreheads touching, noses nestled, her flooded wolf eyes close.
"You're welcome, love. Rest now and I'll watch over you."
Nodding, already drifting off, Michael goes limp and I snuggle down into her lanky body. Odd couple we may be, but it works. If I had any doubts before this night about how deep the feelings run for both of us, they're gone now. I feel more secure than I ever have, here with my love where we are meant to be.
To Be Continued…
Ages ago, I wrote this, but never could quiet finish it. Some weeks ago, I made a promise to myself that I would start finishing the LWM backlog of stories, in cronological order. This was first on the list and Jo was instrumental in the completion. Sorry for the delay.
Book 5: Ripples.
Series: Light, Water, Muses. An alternate universe for a variety of television series. See disclaimers below.
Rating: PG-13, beware of warm fuzzies.
Category: The continuing saga of Reflections/ Resurgences/Refractions/Rapids. Begins shortly after Rapids ended
Pairings: Dace/Catherine & Sara, revisited. More 'maybe/maybe not' for Alex/Olivia.
General Disclaimer: This site contains stories between mature, consenting adult females. All characters are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit", see chapter 1.
Disclaimer: "Facts of Life", produced by Embassy Pictures Corporation and TAT Communications Company. Created by Dick Clair and Jenna McMahon.
Spoilers: Nothing specific.
Summary: Olivia prepares to move on and return a piece of Dace to her. Alex loses out. Gloria is reunited with her childhood heroes. Michael becomes more a part of Jo's life.
Part 4
New York, New York
++ Alex Cabot ++
(still 2-11-02)
"I didn't keep my promise to you."
For a moment, I am convinced I am hallucinating again. My desperation for Olivia has me so knotted up that I am virtually useless in all capacities. Why? Oh who the hell knows. There is only amorphorous hope in something that sparks between us every time we meet. That something is what I so desperately miss in my life.
Miss desperately enough to keep hearing her voice in the corridors of where our lives once overlapped. Then there is a whisper of sound, like fabric over flesh, and the scrape of shoe soles on my office floor. Awareness makes my skin tingle, and I freeze as though hunted by something large and dangerous.
It can't be…
Unwillingly, against the railing rant of the still-sane and shrinking fast part of my brain, I slowly turn away from the file cabinet that holds my banal life.
Olivia Benson looks just like I remember her. Strong, powerful, self-assured, personality oozing from every pore. There is new information in her dark eyes, though. A new purpose, a lightness to her body that speaks of the roots she has already pulled up from this wintry city.
Oh… oh no…
I'm too late.
++ Olivia ++
How have I never noticed how expressive she is? The shades of her eyes and the shift of her classic face is like watching Zo paint, a pleasure I'd experienced far too briefly in Chicago. Pain flashes through me that I've hurt her, even as I know there was nothing else I can do. Dace and her family are my family now too, and I need that connection more and more every day. Even this siren's call cannot snuff out the new strength of purpose I have found with once-strangers.
But walking away from her is going to be even harder than I thought.
The silence between us stretches into infinity, the noise of the legal building around us fading away. My memories play out everything I have seen so recently, the loves that had grown while I watched on.
I move without thought, without thinking.
The huff of Alex's deep voice, her mouth hot and open against mine, her slender strength tight against my sturdier curves: in this heartbeat of time, feeling her for the second and probably last time, I know that I have waited for someone like her for a very long time.
Aw damn…
"I promised to come home to you safe," I whisper, aching at the chasm between us. "And now I've found a home somewhere else." Reluctantly stepping away, giving up my touch on her body, I let my heart shine in my eyes. "I'm sorry."
There is nothing else to say, nothing else to do… but walk away with my heavy heart.
++ Elliot Stabler ++
This story is not supposed to end this way.
Staring sightlessly at the box between my feet, I wonder when I lost my copy of the script. Lost the page where it says; 'Benson moves to Las Vegas.'
I'm losing the best thing that's happened to me since Kathy and my kids.
A gentle hand on my shoulder jerks my thoughts back to the present, and I look up into my wife's understanding eyes. She has been my rock for so long, and will be my rock through losing Olivia as well. I try to convey my gratitude in my eyes.
Touching Kathy's hand and shaking off my brooding, I continue to press clear tape over the seam of the cardboard box between my knees. "You've got a lot of shit for a single woman who's never home," I comment idly, wincing when Kathy cuffs me in the head. Oops, forgot there are kids here. Grinning sheepishly at my wife, she sighs mockingly and the others laugh. After the initial shock at the one-six, we all jumped in to help get Liv packed up to start her new life. Munch is horsing around verbally with Olivia where they stand, deciding on the fate of the furniture. It's gonna suck so bad not having her around…
The downstairs buzzer grabs all of our attention. "Who the hell could that be?" Olivia wonders out loud and heads for her phone. "Hello? Jo! Good to hear from you. Sure, come on up." Hanging up the phone, she turns a brilliant grin on the rest of us. "Another pair of hands is coming up. This is the first I've seen of Jo since Chicago. Damn shame Dace isn't here."
Dace… the mystery woman who changed the heart of this die-hard New Yorker. I want to hate her, I want it so bad that I can taste it… but I can't. Something changed Olivia during that case in Chicago, and the mysterious Dace had been the catalyst. Olivia is shedding a lifetime of hurt and personal drama, and it seems the sky is the limit. There's a lightness to her step, a bright blaze in the darkness of her eyes that I have never seen with such force. Whatever happened to her, it's meant to be.
I'll give up the woman who has been an extension of me for three years, because I love her like I love my family. But I sure as hell won't like it.
Dammit.
++ Michael ++
Truthfully, I had made Jo's pursuit of me far more difficult than necessary. At the time, I think I wanted the ego-stroking of her focused attention to soothe my battered psyche. It is, coincidentally, a month since Jo and Gloria tracked me down and began to assault my fortress of solitude. The teen is a firecracker, and I plan on keeping a close eye on her to encouraging all that potential.
The three of us ride the elevator quietly, my hands resting lightly at the back of their necks, the touch not proprietary, but affectionate. Both lean into me, making me feel warm and loved.
Olivia's expression is classic in the truest sense of the word. Eyes wide, she stares for a moment before giving me a wry grin. "You still look better than Dace." That earns my laughter and a big hug and I know that I will miss having her here in this city.
"How is she doing? Tessa's been keeping the network informed, but I'd like to hear it from you."
Pain, hope and respect war in those dark eyes. "Better. She hurts so bad all the time, but she found Lindsey and Emily, and they're like her. And she has Catherine and she and Sara are building a bond, and the Lady likes Dace, which makes her feel good. I'll tell you, she's the strongest person I know, after what she's been through and is still smiling."
A slow grin twitches my face, reminding me of the fading bruises in my flesh, same as Dace. "She's always been like that. When she walked away from us, it was like losing a sibling. When she came back, I think it only reminded us how much we all adored her. It was never really a party unless that punk was there."
Chuckling, Liv turns her hug on Jo, and they cling tightly to each other as I herd Gloria in ahead of me. She is having trouble keeping her eyes off of Olivia, and brave-nervous, looks at the small crowd in the apartment. I know the faces and remember many of the stories, hell, John Munch is a regular client of the Spades, but I wonder if Gloria will recognize Elliot.
I keep my hands resting lightly on the girl's shoulders for moral support while the detectives figure out who she is.
++ Gloria ++
Hanging out with the Archangels and Jo and Jamie and Pai and Boot has been some of the most rewarding times of my life. Pragmatic, fun and protective without being overbearing, they are probably the best crowd for me to hang with in this city that haunts me.
Truthfully, I don't recognize anything about New York. After all, it's not like I was here on some kind of field trip last time, but just knowing is nerve-wracking. This is the city where I had been raped and tortured so brutally, leaving me with the haunting scars in my skin, and the even thicker ones on my mind and soul. Sure, I've recovered as well as to be expected… But I never forget. Never. Every moment awake or asleep, the memories hover at the edges of my mind. Over time, I've gotten accustomed to them, even drawing strength from them. Nightmares and phobias still get me sometimes, but I do my best to take each day as it comes and prepare for my future.
Olivia's eyes skim over me without recognizing me, but I'd've been shocked if she had. There are days I hardly recognized myself, when the brutalized ten-year-old inside me is feeling particularly vulnerable.
Feeling nervous and a little twitchy around these strangers, I let myself be anchored by Michael's strong hands on my shoulders. There is something familiar about the big man with the military haircut, but not in a bad way. Then Jo's voice brings my attention to her as she steps over. "Gloria, you remember Olivia," Jo smiles, her arm around the taller brunette's shoulders.
"Never forget her," I grin back, watching the empathetic brown eyes I remember vividly. There is still no recognition, but Olivia holds out a welcoming hand I take eagerly.
"I'm sorry, Gloria, but I seem to be blanking," she starts to say, then her voice trails off and her eyes grow round. "Gloria…"
"Hi, Officer Benson," I greet her warmly, welcoming the suffocating hug I'm suddenly wrapped in. How I love these kind of big, warm embraces from people I trust.
"I didn't even recognize you," Olivia is saying, leaning away only far enough to study my face. "You look wonderful."
"The Amazons have been really good to me and Aunt Kali," I beam at this second hero of my child self. "I've been looking forward to talking to you since the Staff and Scroll in Chicago."
"You were at that club?"
Her disbelief makes me laugh. "I'll be sixteen at the end of July. There are levels of the club where I can legally work. I bus tables at the underage club, and do some janitorial work and stuff. More of my time is spent on school, I promise."
Mollified, Olivia hugs me again, and I sigh happily, especially when Jo adds herself to the cling by pressing herself against my back and squeezing us both.
++ Jo ++
Packing Liv up turns into an impromptu party that includes a never-ending stream of cops and easily half the large apartment building. Not to mention the many handfuls of locals, coming by with a word or a little gift for a favored keeper of the peace. Liv is as gracious as a princess; a small conversation, a hug, and many thanks for each and every one of them. At some point in the crush, Rick brings Jamie by for what will inevitably turn into a sleep-over for some of us.
Alex Cabot snuck in with the setting sun, looking pale and tragic. Damn shame those two hadn't figured out what the hell their chemistry was before it was too late.
(2-12-02)
Inhaling lazily across mucous membranes gone dry, I climb blearily from sleep and look around. When the hell had I finally fallen asleep? Instantly, I look around for Jamie, relieved to see her on Olivia's mattress on the floor, curled up at my feet near Gloria. Their sweet little crush on each other cracks me up. Michael's body is sprawled across the strange, inflatable couch-bed thing that Stabler provided that has miraculously retained its basic shape and has been surprisingly comfy to sleep on. Her head is pillowed on my lap, dark hair warming my fingers where they cup around her scalp. Soft voices catch my attention and I stroke Michael's hair as I listen.
"Never would have pictured you going to Vegas, of all places," murmurs Stabler in a carefully neutral tone that is absolute bullshit. He's grieving his upcoming loss and trying to be so brave. Men…
"Yeah, I know," Liv sighs back, her conflict making my heart ache. "But it just feels right. I can't explain it. There's so much I haven't done, always using mom or my past or the job as an excuse to stay put. Suddenly, I need to see and do things I haven't seen and done, you know?"
"Yeah, I can understand that. New York's not going to be the same without you, though."
"Yeah."
A grumble of protest escapes me at the dryness in my throat, and I cursed my interruption as shadowy heads turned my way.
Dammit.
++ Olivia ++
Before I can react to Jo's small, uncomfortable sound, Elliot presses me into the battered futon that had once been my guest bed and would be charity tomorrow. "I got it. Stay with Alex."
Ah yes, Alex. Too wound up to sleep, I have nevertheless found a certain bittersweet peace in stroking the platinum hair feathered over my lap. It just sort of happened, one minute Alex had been chowing on pizza and beer with stiffly uncomfortable posture, then she'd started to sag like an aging helium balloon. That is how I've come to be her pillow.
Her breath is warming certain strategic parts of my anatomy that I'd much rather be ignoring right about now. So I cock an ear out for Elliot and Jo.
"What's up?"
"Thirsty, but I'm pinned down."
"Hang on." Ice cubes slosh in water as Elliot rummages in the ice chest and plastic crackles as the cap is twisted. "Here you go."
A sharp inhalation, lusty sucking noises that almost sounded dirty, and Jo makes a happy kitten noise. "You're a lifesaver, Stabler."
Morning is gray and sullen in the window. Have we been up all night talking? Sure looks like it and my eyes are burning badly enough as proof. It has been impossible to stop stroking Alex's soft hair and wonder what could have been. For the whole night, Elliot and I reminisced, retracing the relationship that has defined our partnership. More than my partner, the guy who watches my back and keeps me from going too far, this singular man is my friend.
And the pale beauty in my lap is a taste of what could be… no… what could have been.
The melancholia that I've been fighting all night is shattered by the shrill blast of my telephone. Not a soul in my apartment doesn't jump like someone shot out a window, followed by a chorus of moans and groans. Moaning in bleary shock, Alex cradles her skull, obviously nursing a sore neck. "Hey, relax," I urge quietly, pressing her head back to my lap. "The machine'll get it."
Michael grumbles something that makes Jamie gasp in shock, then giggle guiltily.
"What did you say?" Jo asked suspiciously before squeaking in a mildly sexual kinda way. Bet she just got goosed or something similar. On the forth ring, the ancient answering machine clicks loudly, hissing out it's staticy message in my barely-out-of-teens voice. "Jeezus," Jo grumbles, voice straining around a stretch. "That's the same damn message you've had since college."
"Hey Dobie," comes a familiar and much-missed voice. The room goes instantly quiet, all ears trained on Dace's tone. She sounds happy and sad all at once, still blurry with painkillers. "Just wanted to let you know we were headed home tomorrow afternoon and we oughta make it in early Valentines. Miss you, hope you're having a good time." A sleepy little groan tinnily echoes through the speaker, making me grin.
"Miss you, Liv," Lindsey adds sleepily, her voice barely close enough to the speaker to be heard. Dace's throaty, distinctively feline chuckle warms my apartment for a moment, almost close enough to touch, and I'm shocked to realize just how much I miss all of them.
++ Alex ++
Olivia doesn't have to say it. The gentle smile on her beautiful face is enough. That voice… if had to be her. Since I can't bring myself to hate Olivia, I will hate her new partner instead. It effectively ruins the morning for me, burning away the calm pleasure of being so close to her. Even in sleep, I'd been aware of her firm warmth against ear, head, shoulder; the sweet touch of her hand in my hair.
"That was her?"
Stabler beat me to the question, braver than I.
"Yeah," Olivia says shortly, adoration and discomfort laced through her tone. "And Lindsey."
"The kid?"
"Yeah. She's so much like Dace. I think you guys would like both of them."
There it is again, that loving thrum in her voice that makes me so jealous that tears come to my eyes. How I have always wanted that for myself, how chicken-shit and self-delusional I've been. Disgusted with myself, I manage to sit up and carefully crack my sore neck. "I should go," I murmur, trying not to cringe at the welcome warmth and weight of her hand on my shoulder. The teens bursting into giggles signals my escape, grateful for the distraction.
Shockingly, I make it to the street before she catches up with me. "Alex!" Despite myself, I stop, shivering in the cold. After a moment, weight settles over my shoulders, smelling of the woman I will miss so much. "Keep it," Olivia says quietly, running those coveted hands down my arms, stimulating the nerves, hitching my breath. "I won't need it anymore, and I'd like that a part of me stays with you."
"Thank you," I whisper brokenly, wishing that the embrace of the heavy leather was her arms… that she would never leave me. The thought brings burning tears to my eyes, blurring my vision, and I desperately wave at the passing yellow blur of a taxi. "You should go back to your guests, I've… I've got to go." Smiling weakly, trying to pull my heart out of her hands, I blather, "work… y'know."
There is no reaction, just that hang-dog face, the dark eyes overly bright.
It is an image that will haunt me for a long, long time.
++ Ingle ++
It's slow, no surprise. Tuesdays aren't exactly the high point of everybody's social life. I've spent my slow day rearranging the bar, filled with a restless energy that feels dimly familiar. The sensation has been building for years, like the slow growing of stalactites in a dark cave.
The time is coming near now, building like a wave in the deep ocean that will break over the land as a tsunami. Humankind has no clue what was coming down the pipe at it. The industrial revolution had been a lousy time to be recharging in my kaer. Not to mention an even worse time to sleep in, so to speak.
It's stunning, really, how quickly humankind forgot its true past. When the magic levels had fallen to such minute levels, all evidence of the world I once lived in… simply vanished. All that was left was the humans, the core race that spawned all the others had forgotten, and I was alone.
Well, alone enough to be a bit insane with it, for those that shared my so very rare immortality are no friends of mine.
The door slams open and a well-liked and familiar voice bellows into the afternoon quiet, "what's a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?"
My pair of regulars ignore and smirk respectively, as I grin at Olivia. "Beg me, Benson."
There is a whole crowd with the swarthy cop, and they come in brushing snow off. Tossing her coat over a booth back, my cop pal sashays over with a look in her eye like she wants more than a drink. So I obligingly lean over the counter and give her a flirtatious eyebrow. Imagine my shock when Olivia Benson, often too serious for her boots, meets me halfway across the bar top and plants a warm kiss on me. "Please?" She flirts, batting dark eyelashes and I can't help but laugh. But I see something that she's hiding from her companions, cupping her cheek to keep the curious, dark eyes on mine.
Olivia grows still, caught in the lingering magic of my gaze. Even the most self-controlled of the human race can be cracked by the faint, lingering mana in my True Pattern. The pain of this strong woman, the determination, the history there in her gaze, it speaks to me as clear as language. Understanding the tough decision she has made, I lean over the counter and give Olivia a warm, gentle kiss, right above her eyes.
"Sometimes, the right decision is the hardest."
++ Olivia ++
Unnerved by the exchange, but somehow relieved by it, I watch as Ingle is suddenly acting like herself again. Coming around the bar, she went to my entourage with her usual magnanimous charm. Jamie and Gloria seem in awe of the tall, unusual woman, the adults only slightly more composed.
We all settle down to lunch, jovially shouting a round of 'hellos' as Gabe and the pups arrive unexpectedly. Hugs and kisses are traded around, and I am heartened by the powerful grip of the man around my smaller frame. "It'll work out, love. You'll see."
For some reason, it never feels like weakness to be vulnerable with Gabe, there is something so big-brotherly about him. So, I take a moment to lean on his strength, finally straightening up with a sigh. "Thanks Gabe."
He grins brilliantly and kisses me on the nose before straightening up and gesturing Boot over. "Anytime, Liv. Michael and I were hoping that you could help us with an important favor."
"Anything," I agree easily and laugh when he gives me a dry look. "Okay, anything within reason." From the brown-paper package in Boot's hands, comes a well-loved leather jacket that I immediately recognize. "Dace's jacket?" I question, confused, and then it suddenly hits me.
The doctors cut the heavy leather garment away from her broken body.
Humbled, I take the weight of it in my hands, see the memories of the blood-streaked hide, see the sheen of new oil and love in the careworn surface. Like scars, there are neat stitches of heavy, industrial waxed thread that run from collar to cuff along the right arm where scissors had sawed through it. Flipping over the once-bisected collar and shoulder, I note that the stitches are visible on both sides. The work is clean and neat and if not for the faintly visible slice beneath the stitches, it would almost look deliberate. The boys remain quiet as the flash of white on the back catches my eye.
Shuffling around the weight, I hold the jacket up, studying it carefully. Most of the symbols are faded badly, an ace of diamonds card and a red chess piece, but the ghostly lion's eyes on the shoulder blades visually leap off the leather in their newly embroidered glory. The image is startling in its realness, hints of gold and blue in the irises, a fading image of the black stripes bracketing a cougar's nose trailing between them.
"A friend of ours cleaned, fixed and embroidered that for us," Michael's voice says quietly behind me. "We would be grateful if you would return it to its rightful owner."
"My pleasure," I whisper, shrugging the well-loved old garment onto my own body, catching a whiff of Dace's smell hiding beneath the dry cleaning chemicals. "She's going to be ecstatic that you rescued it."
"Our pleasure," Gabe smiles.
++ Michael ++
(2-13-02)
Last night, I'd taken Olivia to the airport, where my pack, Jo, the teens, and Elliot, hugged the woman goodbye and watched her and the distinctive leather jacket vanish into the depths of LaGuardia Airport. Jamie wasn't the only one who sniffled and needed a hug after that. Regretting being separated from Jo and her fascinating child, I dropped everybody off at their respective abodes and returned home, desperately needing to get some real work done today.
But Jamie had surprised me, pressing a note into my hand as she followed her mother out of the limo. Reading it yet again, I trace the neat handwriting with a finger. 'There's a family Valentine's get together every year. I'd like it if you'd come. Wednesday, the 13th. Come by at 6 and I'll make you and mom dinner. Apartment 12, fourth floor.'
How can I say no to that?
So, terrified out of my mind at meeting the Polniaczek clan, I gather up the things I am never without and head for the garage, shrugging into my best camel-hair trench coat. A couple quick stops and I am back at the apartment building with the popular bar taking up the bottom two floors, the neon 'Rosa Jo' lighting the evening dark.
In truth, I'm scared to death of what I am headed into. My feelings for Jo are well known to me, but the trappings that come with her are pretty much foreign territory. Sure, Jamie had been the biggest hurdle, and we've become buddies of sorts, but the whole damn clan?
The burly man stepping from the elevator where I wait, gives me an appraising glance that I ignore. On the fourth floor, I step out and again pause with nerves. It's just wrong that I am this petrified, and yet so very telling. Fear and fact fight in my head. Only true love could make me such a wreck.
It is reassuring and nerve-wracking all at once.
There are only four doors, and I take a deep breath before rapping just below the prominent plaque marked '12'.
++ Jamie ++
Meeting mom's girlfriend had been bizarre, but she makes one heck of an impression. Intense, intelligent, and dangerous, with a smile that lights up her whole face, the gorgeous Michael is something else. Watching her with mom is sweet. They're an odd couple, sure, but they fit nicely. So, I took a chance and invited her to join the whole family.
Call it a test, sorta.
A knock makes me jump, heart racing. Is it her?
"Is that someone at the door?" Mom calls from her room as I race to answer.
"Got it!" I yell and look through the peephole, restraining a yell of success. Michael flinches when I yank the door open, but smiles, the expression a little queasy. "Hi! You made it!"
"It's been a long time since I had such a nice offer," Michael grins and brings up one hand with a single rose. "Happy Valentine's Day." Startled, I take the pretty flower, a deep, rich coral color, and smell it.
"Mmm," I hum happily at the amazing scent.
"Pink means friendship," Michael says softly, and I look into the strange, pale eyes, more gold than brown, and feel a connection to her.
"Friends," I offer, giving her a hug, startling her.
++ Jo ++
That knock is probably more of my idiot cousins stopping by, looking for a handout. You'd think the bar would be enough to corral the herd, but there are always a few overenthusiastic ones around at these family get-togethers. It is always fun, always wild and always exhausting.
Maybe someday, Michael would want to be a part of the chaos.
Sighing wistfully, I finish putting on my earrings, cute little ruby studs my father gave me years ago, and head for the kitchen. This is one of the few times I like to dress up a bit, if nothing else, because it gives my cousins a shock.
"Who was at the door, honey?" I ask Jamie as I walk past the front door…
To freeze dead in my tracks.
As though conjured by my wistful wishes, there is Jamie, hugging Michael, right on the threshold of our home. Sheepishly, terror and fondness in her gaze, my lover winds an arm around Jamie's shoulders, a wine bottle and bouquet of red roses dangling from her fingers, and smiles at me. Immediately, those eyes change, raking over me, bringing up all the complicated emotions and hormones that she always does. Handing the bottle and roses to Jamie, Michael stalks over to me, expression intense.
"You look lovely," she compliments softly, her tone more vulnerable than I've ever heard it.
"Michael," I breathe idiotically, my brain still on pause.
But I snap out of it when she leans into me with intent, once more lost in the taste and feel of the mouth that unravels me without fail. A moment or an hour or a lifetime might pass, my knees quiver in time to more vulnerable parts of my anatomy, before we separate enough to make eye contact again. It is supremely strange to be nearly eye to eye with her, as I am actually wearing a bit of a heel.
"Jamie invited me," Michael says hesitantly. "And…"
"And what?" I hear myself ask, touching the gorgeous face I love so.
"And…and I want to be a part of your life. Really be a part of it. I've held back for too long."
It is the nicest gift anyone has offered me in a long, long time.
++ Michael ++
Well, that went well. Slightly less petrified of the gathering family throng downstairs, I cuddle with Jo for another minute, and we laugh when we notice that the front door is closed and locked with Jamie nowhere to be seen. Snorting with amusement, Jo presses her face into the side of my head for a moment, breathing against my ear. It is sexy and comforting all at once.
"Must have given up on us paying any attention," she whispers softly, and I am relieved to hear familiar arousal in her tone, hidden beneath the amusement and nerves. Leaning back, she eyes me critically for a moment, amusing me. "You really came over here to brave my family?"
"Yes ma'am," I grin, giving her a squeeze.
"You're either braver than I thought or completely out of your mind."
"Just head over heels."
How I love that soft, adoring look on her expressive face.
"Come eat!" Jamie calls from the direction of whatever smells so yummy and we adults obediently follow orders. Dinner is ravioli that Jamie says her gramma Rosa made from scratch and a savory sauce of the teen's own making. Since it is spinach and cheese and a meatless sauce, at least I don't have to worry about something heavy upsetting my stomach and eat heartily of the delicious meal.
To my amusement, Jamie chatters at me as though we've been friends forever and asks any question that comes to her mind. Jo's baffled and pleased gaze weaves between us and the dozen deep red roses I'd brought for her, now arranged in a vase, thanks to Jamie.
We laugh together, and I even dare reach over and poke Jamie in the ribs to make her laugh harder. Whatever misgivings I've harbored for so long are melting away, even as I know there is one more major hurdle to jump.
++ Charlie Polniaczek ++
Finally having achieved an age to be wise, I've learned to be appreciative of my life. Once I'd made the right choices, things just seemed to work out for me. The bar, and the warren of apartments above, is a dream come true, keeping business and family at a central hub, tying us all the closer together.
Kids, grandkids, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, friends; all of that and more gather at the bar where I have poured my heart, soul, sweat and money into every brick, tile and light bulb. This sprawling bar is named after the two girls that will always be first in my heart. The first returns my sentimental grin from where she is holding court at the main bar and for the thousandth time, I thank my lucky stars that I'd gotten a clue and half-killed myself to win back my first and only love, my beloved Rosa.
My other sweetheart is still missing in action.
As though conjured by my thoughts, the swinging doors from the lobby sweep inward, admitting my swaggering granddaughter, grinning like a silly fool. There is a loud ripple of welcome, that halves in volume quite abruptly. There is my only child, the light of my life and the pride of my heart… on the arm of a simply striking woman.
It isn't the woman part that startles me, but that there is a significant other here at all. Both look petrified, but brave, as the silence deepens and Jamie begins to scowl. This is the mysterious Michael then. The clothes should have been a dead giveaway, because jeans and a casual shirt could only look so good on a woman bred for elegance and high class. Not to mention the faded bruises on her face that now illustrate the heavily edited version of events that took place in Chicago on that last case that effects my baby so deeply.
Time for dad to step in and do his best to make it all better.
Striding quickly towards my daughter, I hold open my arms for a hug, magnanimous and accepting of her, as always. "Jo, sweetheart. You were making your old man worry!"
"Sorry, papa," she murmurs, returning the hug with only one and a half arms. Bet she's still clinging to the girlfriend then. Cupping her beautiful face, I smile warmly.
"You look beautiful," I compliment and she blushes a bit. So shy about her good looks! Then I give her cheeks a squeeze and turn my focus on the woman beside her.
++ Michael ++
Shrewd and familiar blue eyes turn to me, a quick examination that is more thorough than some doctors I've seen. "You're Michael, then."
"Yes sir," I reply immediately, the honorific rolling easily off my tongue. Quickly transferring Jo's tight grip to my forearm, I offer a hand to the man. "Pleased to meet you."
An older woman strides through the awakening crowd, every inch as intense and curious as this man. "So, they finally persuaded you to come," she comments shrewdly and I startle at Jamie's slender body pressed into the opposite side as her mother. It is a humbling gesture of acceptance, and I have to smile.
"I see where Jo and Jamie get their good looks."
Startled, father laughs and mother looks pleased, though she quickly hides it under a classical Italian scowl. "What kind of name is Michael for a woman? You are lucky that we knew who you were!"
"It's a nickname, ma'am," I hasten to explain. "My best friend's name is Gabriel."
It takes a moment for the joke to compute, then the older woman laughs prettily, reminding me powerfully of her daughter and granddaughter, pressed into my ribs.
"Michael and Gabriel, very funny," abruptly she goes serious, peering at me closely. "But what is your name?"
The dreaded name is furnished with the possibly the least amount of reluctance since I started becoming my own person as a young child. "It's Grace. Grace la Magne."
"Grace. Much better. Pleased to meet you, Grace. I am Rosa, and this is Charlie." Her handshake is warm, dry, solid, just like her voice and temperament.
Maybe this won't be so bad after all.
++ Jo ++
It's hard to believe how relieved I am that my folks like Michael. That girlie name that mom had pressed out of her still doesn't fit her. She will always be Michael to me. During the course of the evening, she had put several idiot cousins and a lecherous uncle in their place, the polite smile never fading. Those of my clan that display class and intelligence are treated accordingly, and the impression of my unusual lover will linger for some time.
"So, I owe you a thank you," I tell my daughter conversationally where she is chattering with Gloria. Gabriel brought the teen with him when he arrived about half and hour ago and the girls have picked up right where they'd left off at Liv's place. Jamie regards me thoughtfully before smiling, a faintly lecherous expression that both amuses me and makes me cringe.
"For inviting Michael?"
The innocent act falls short, and she squeals with laughter as I twist around to tickle her fiercely for a moment. "Yes, for inviting Michael," I admit warmly, holding her close for a long moment. Then a ripple through the crowd makes us look to the front doors.
"Fashionably late as always," Jamie chuckles as the females of the Warner clan frame themselves in the doorway, followed up by the ever patient Tad. As always, there is a brief current of reaction to my old pal, still gorgeous after all these years and, as usual, I shove it down.
"Excuse us, Gloria," I murmur distractedly, even as I notice my dad headed for the doorway where the Warner matriarch waits patiently. "We have to go say hello."
"Okay," she says softly and I made a mental note to get her some trusted company ASAP.
"I'll stay put, mom," Jamie volunteers, warming me with her sensitivity. "Aunt Blair can come over to me once she's done wowing the crowd." The fond sarcasm isn't lost on either of us and I hug her quickly before moving to join my father.
++ Blair Warner ++
Twenty-two years has made her no less attractive, no less appealing. As is life-long habit now, I do my best to squelch down the 'what if' game my mind and emotions insist on playing with me every time I interact with Jo Polniaczek. For once, the game is a short this time as my mother makes a pleased sound at the presence of a slender brunette that materializes at Jo's shoulder. The way my old pal leans into her is not lost on me.
"Michael?" Mother says with pleased disbelief. "What an unusual surprise, to see you here."
"Monica," the sultry brunette smiles, taking my mother's offered hands and trading the little cheek kiss that is such a stamp of our privileged lives. "These are your lovely daughters I presume?"
Then I realize with a sick jolt in my stomach who this is. The slow, knowing smile as the Archangel Michael accepts my woodenly offered hand, clues me in that she knows who I am as well. All those trips to the territory of the Amazons to play out the rough sexual fantasies inspired by the woman at her side come back to me now in loving detail. "Blair," Michael purrs softly, making my nerves arc and my skin flush. "Jo's mentioned you," she adds wryly, and I nearly cringe at how knowingly she looked at me. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Her touch is warm and gentle, and I am torn by the press her mouth so briefly on my knuckles. Before I can stammer out something coherent, Michael turns her attention to my little sister and her smile changes from sensual to friendly. "And you, of course, are Bailey."
It is the youngest of us that really pours on the charm, as Bailey bats her eyes coquettishly at the attractive brunette. "So pleased to meet you, Michael. Are you friends with Jamie and Aunt Jo?"
The small smile dancing around the corner of that full mouth as Michael looks at Jo makes my heart ache and Bailey to chuckle. "You could say that," the woman purrs and Jo flushes, slapping her away affectionately.
"Would you two go check on Gloria for me?"
We all watch the aristocratic woman escort Bailey to where Jamie and a unknown teen are seated, before Mother breaks the small quiet. "Quite a catch you've made there, Jo." Charlie made a small, strangled sound of amusement, for which Jo flushes tellingly and elbows him in the ribs. Despite myself, I have to chuckle along with Mother, even as she takes Jo's arm and drags her back towards the party. "Tell me all about it."
The wry look Jo flashes her is both amusing and telling. "I think I'd rather not tell you everything, Monica."
Knowing Michael's line of work with the Four Suites, my half-hearted hopes couldn't handle it.
++ Michael ++
(2-14-02)
"I enjoyed meeting your family."
Half-asleep, Jo snorts in amusement and rolls onto her back with a sultry grin. After a long night of dinner with Jamie, the party at Rosa-Jo's, some sensuous snacks and lovemaking beneath the stars, this ranks right up there with the most stressful and successful of my Valentines. Some of my thoughts must show on my face, because Jo twists to sit up and straddle my hips with a sexy grin.
"Yes, I think they quite enjoyed meeting you as well," she smirks and I am treated to a teasing caress over chest and sternum. Somehow the lovemaking of this night has felt different. Every time I accept this singular woman closer to my heart, it offsets the vulnerability with the pleasure of the bond. "What?" Jo asks curiously at my goofy grin.
"My fears in letting you all the way in are unfounded, cherie." The look of pleased surprise on her lovely face makes me grin wider. My native tongue doesn't slip very often. "The French is proof enough how much I love and trust you."
"Ah yes," she smiles, bending to rest her weight on both elbows, tumbling that near-black hair over us. "Your mysterious background." Thoughtfully, she taps her lower lip, entirely ignoring the way our bodies nestle. Curious and amused at her playfulness, I remain passive, merely stroking the lean lines of hips and thighs. "The accent's wrong for Louisiana, Gloria pointed that out, though you slip into it when talking to Grand Dame." Despite the teasing note in Jo's voice, I realize that I have told her so very little about myself. Sensing the shift in emotions, Jo's smile fades to concern. "What is it?"
"There's things about myself that I've never told anyone," says my mouth, completely independent of my upper brain, where my fears are so firmly housed. "Gabe knows some, so does KC and the other original Aces, but not all of it." Fear and cynicism twist my face for a moment, and Jo sweetly soothes that stress away. "I'm not sure I even remember it all."
There is something so empathetic in that bright blue gaze, that tears suddenly rise up in a suffocating wave. "You left France for a good reason." Wordlessly, I can only nod. "I've told you once, and I'll tell you again, that you tell me when you're ready. Whatever you once were, I love what you have become."
++ Jo ++
Well, it isn't at all the way I figured my Valentine's Day to go, but somehow, this is even better than the sweetness and sex. Tears aren't something I associate with my strong lover, but she had sobbed quietly against my shoulder for some time before dozing off. I know the sound of that pain, the look in her darkened eyes. Traumatized children grow into adults that bear those same scars.
Michael has trusted me enough to glimpse the hurt little Grace within her strong soul.
Humbled by the trust, I cradle her body with mine, listening to her murmur in her sleep, the restlessness chasing away rest. The French sounds different somehow, despite the words being gibberish to me, I can sense the feel of them. When she sobs out, "mere, my mere, je regrette (mother, my mother, I'm sorry)", I finally have to wake her. "Michael," I whisper, firming the stroking of her dark hair, trying not to startle her unduly. While I have never see the extent of how dangerous she can really be, I know better than to test my luck. After a moment, the tension in her body changes, and I look to see her eyelids flutter open.
Long moments pass before my lover speaks up quietly. "How's your history?"
Huh? "Okay, I guess. Why?"
"Charlemagne ascended to King of the Franks in the eighth century," Michael lectures in a flat monotone that belies her stress. "I could bore you to tears with tomes of information I still have memorized, but you can look on wikipedia for that." I refrain from chuckling, because this is serious to her, even as I have no clue where she's going with it. "I grew up in a commune, for lack of a better description, deep in the heart of wild France. According to family history, I am the last in a long line of eldest born, directly descended from Charles the Great."
It's an impressive linage for sure, but what on earth has her so tense?
"Are you worried that my opinion of you will change?"
Startled, Michael raises herself up to meet my eyes.
++ Michael ++
It actually never occurred to me to worry that my 'royal heritage' would change the way she regards me. That is not at all her style. Mutely, I shake my head and she smiles before tugging me down for a warm kiss. "Good. I'm glad you know me that well. Now, tell me what's really bothering you."
This is it.
I have never been completely honest about my past, not at school, not with the Marine Corps, not with KC and Gabe.
Only Grand Dame knows the entire story.
"My family," both of us flinch at the venom in my tone, but I sink back to the haven of Jo's body and I force myself to continue. "Suffers from a horrible legacy of insanity from isolation, ignorance and inbreeding. The monster that fathered me has been institutionalized for his entire life, no more useful to society than a rabid animal. My grandfather," I sharpen my teeth on that word, once again refusing to speak that bastard's name. "Knew that steps had to be taken to preserve the lineage and managed to find a curly branch of the family tree who had immigrated to America."
"Grand Dame?" Jo guesses in a gentle voice and strokes my hair as I nod.
"They weren't doing well here, poor and with family dying from ill health and poor working and living conditions. Louisiana can be a harsh place, but lovely. Grand Dame's daughter," my voice goes hoarse with tears, the pain has never lessened. "Sold herself to my bastard grandfather to be put in with the monster that fathered me."
The hug is fierce and I am strengthened.
"I never knew her. I never even knew this part of the story until I met Grand Dame when I was twelve years old. My cousins and I were raised in a convent-like setting with no contact with the outside world. No TV, no phone, no newspaper. Our only information was books, and we had a library that was amazing. Our lives were stuck back in the past. Psychologically, we learned ruthless mind games from the adults and practiced on one another."
++ Jo ++
I had guessed a long time ago that something tortures Michael. Hearing her very accurate descriptions of an insular cult upbringing begins to explain a great many things. After some time, I realize that there seems to be no more of the story coming and I nuzzle Michael's head.
"So, Grand Dame found you and brought you here?" my tone is conversational and calm, soothing Michael, who nods against my throat. "And you obviously finished school, and with high marks if I know you," I tease gently and feel her mouth quirk in a half-grin. "Then became a Marine, no mean feat, a lawyer, got yourself in with a business empire you now run? Do I have it right?"
"Yes," Michael sounds sweetly pleased and exasperated and I congratulate myself on handling her right.
"I think she'd be proud, but that's me. I know Grand Dame is and I have that straight from the old horse's mouth."
Calm settles over my lover, even as tears still wet my skin for long minutes. Part of me marvels at this intimacy, the ease of it and that either of us has taken this step at all. Even the buzz of the ingrained 'relationship panic' in my brain is just white noise that I easily ignore. The vulnerability of my heart has always been worth it with her.
In a single fluid motion that is so her, Michael tightens her grip and flips us over so that I am now on top, looking into her softened features. Ignoring the tingle in my oxygen-starved right arm, I watch her face as she touches mine softly, humbled by the childlike trust I've never seen so clearly before.
"Thank you," she whispers so softly and so hoarsely that I can barely hear. A soft kiss calms us both and I remain with our foreheads touching, noses nestled, her flooded wolf eyes close.
"You're welcome, love. Rest now and I'll watch over you."
Nodding, already drifting off, Michael goes limp and I snuggle down into her lanky body. Odd couple we may be, but it works. If I had any doubts before this night about how deep the feelings run for both of us, they're gone now. I feel more secure than I ever have, here with my love where we are meant to be.
To Be Continued…