FIC: The Other Side [SVU: Alex/Elliot (1/?)]
Title: The Other Side, Part 1 of ?
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Case File, AU, First Time
Pairings: Alex/Elliot, slight Alex/Olivia, minor Olivia/Casey
Rating: Mature.
Word Count: 3054
Summary: AU. What if Alex had never finished law school? What if Elliot never left the military?
A/N: While it's not my intention to post *another* WiP, this one has been sitting on my hard drive for going on 4 months. And I knew that if I didn't post *something* I'd never finish it. This is an experiment that was originally supposed to be a series of drabbles tied together in one story. But the drabbles turned into longer than drabbles, and the pacing is kinda weird, and I'm hoping everything ties in at the end.
The Other Side
**
Today was going to suck. The sun hadn’t even crested over the horizon and she could feel the bad mood enveloping around her like a death shroud. All she needed was an actual shroud, a sickle and the look would be complete.
She was also getting a headache. Could already feel the dull pounding sensation, blood vessels contracting painfully in her skull. The weight from her job was always there, pressing on her shoulders, getting heavier by the day. She'd seen too much, too many dead bodies, too many victims with haunted eyes, with scars that went deeper than mere flesh and bone.
Before she even reached the scene, the scent of death hung in the air. The metallic tang of blood mixed with the other pungent odors of death. It wasn't like in the movies. The flickering images could only show death, never what it felt like, what it smelled like. Death was never pleasant. It smelled worse.
She crossed the police line. Felt the glare of the uniforms, of the plain-clothed detectives. Could practically hear their thoughts as she crossed their line of vision. She'd heard them all - Bitch, Rich Kid, Ass Kisser, Daddy's Girl, Whore, Ice-Queen. Her personal favorite was ‘the Borg Queen’. It had at least required a certain amount of thought and imagination.
“You look like shit, Detective,” ME Warner smirked as she entered the tiny bedroom.
"I love you, too," she leaned down next to Warner, pulling on the standard issue rubber gloves. "What have we got?"
She listened as the ME spouted off the facts. The scene showed her everything she needed to know. It hadn't been quick. It hadn't been painless. It had been brutal, violent, lasting longer than any human deserved. The phone still in the victim's hand. Her body laid where she died, bleeding to death while pleading for help. She felt her heart twisting at the pain of another loss. The young woman, no more than twenty, had been somebody's daughter, friend, lover, sister.
Now? She was nothing more than a body.
"Detective Cabot?"
Alex rose to her feet. Captain Cragen entered the room. A slight wince in his eyes as he quickly canvassed the scene. He was followed by a man in military uniform. Tall, dark hair, deep blue eyes. An air of staunch military professionalism about him, even if his BDU's were slightly wrinkled. Alex hadn't been the only one awoken in the middle of the night, she‘d thought with a slight smirk.
"Cap'n?"
Cragen gave her a look that was both apologetic and resolute. The kind of look that told her she wasn't going to like what he had to say and there would be no arguing afterwards.
"Alex,” he nodded his head towards the man standing next to him, “this is Lieutenant Colonel Elliot Stabler."
She took Stabler's offered hand. She noted the strong formal grip, taking a glance at his stripes. Marine. He smiled courteously despite the obvious look of displeasure Alex returned.
"Ma'am."
"What can I do for you Lt. Col?"
Cragen took a step closer as she released Stabler‘s grip. "You can give him your full cooperation. Until this case closes, he's your new partner."
**
The file was as thick as her forearm. She'd practically grunted while hoisting it onto her lap. She thumbed through the case files. The faces of both men and women stared back at her. The youngest was nineteen, the oldest, thirty-five. All were military.
"I guess this is the long story," she sighed.
"Yes ma'am," Stabler took a sip from his coffee.
"And the short story?"
"Serial killer. With a taste for murder and a hatred for anything military."
"Jesus," the implications hit her immediately. This could get political, in a hurry. Politics had a way of mucking up a case. They'd have to work fast if they wanted to catch this guy. "How have you guys managed to keep a lid on it?"
"He never hit's the same place twice. Plus, this is only the second murder to happen off base. The last one was four months ago outside Fort Lewis."
"How'd you know he was in New York?"
His face darkened. She felt a shiver run down her spine, it wasn't from the cold. "Long story."
**
The question hung in the air. Elliot stared at her, waiting for a response. She glared at him. He'd pissed her off. Again.
"Would you stop that?"
He peered at her questioningly over the lip of his coffee. "Ma'am?"
"That,” she gaped back. “That 'ma'am' shit. Call me Cabot, or Detective.."
"Ishmael?"
"Shut up."
"Yes ma'am."
For the first time, Elliot saw Alex smile.
**
"Her parents called. Said if I came to the funeral they'd have me arrested." Her name was Melody, Private Armstrong's girlfriend. She stood outside the coffee shop where she worked, a hand nervous flicking ash from her cigarette. Her eyes darted from Alex to Elliot. "They blame me.
"Melody," Elliot pressed a hand gently on her shoulder, "it's not your fault."
Alex hung in the background. She'd never been particularly good at this part of the job. She lacked the finesse of the other Detectives. She could bring a perp to his knees with a glare. Could make men twice her size think twice. But put her next to a grieving young woman and Alex had the social graces of a gnat. Her partnership with Olivia had made her better, just no where close to good.
Elliot was like Olivia in this regard. His strong presence and sympathetic eyes put the young woman at ease. Within minutes, she trusted him. Trusted that he didn't judge her, didn't hate her, would find justice for her and her partner.
"Why would somebody do this?" Her eyes went from Elliot's to Alex's.
Alex didn't know.
***
"So," Olivia leaned against the sink, arms folded across her chest. "How're things with your new partner?"
Alex continued running her hands under the tap. Tried to hide the instantaneous jolt of tension squeezing her muscles. "Temporary."
"He seems alright."
"Does he?"
"Yeah, in an Irish-Catholic, married kinda way."
She didn't have time for this shit. She'd seen the ring. Had watched the thousand fantasies pop like tiny bubbles as the gold band flashed in her vision. Alex hastily snatched several paper towels from the dispenser. What she'd once considered an attractive quality in the brunette, her overbearing sense of propriety, had now become an irritant. She'd stopped being Olivia's a long time ago. It had long since passed the time to cut the cord. "I left a box with the last of your things by the door. I won't be home this evening. It'd be nice if it was gone when I came back. And don't let the cat out."
"Don't worry, Alex,” Olivia’s lips pulled into a smile that, several days ago, would have sent Alex to her knees. “I know how to contain your pussy."
***
"What's the story?" Elliot asked. They sat side by side at the small Irish pub the 16th Precinct frequented more than occasionally. "Between you and Benson. If you don't mind me asking."
Normally, she would have minded but she was too shocked that he'd noticed to be angry. Shocked that she hadn't kept her feelings closer to her chest.
"We're at an impasse,” she shrugged indifferently. “We can't agree upon who broke up with whom. She thinks I'm a stubborn, indecisive bitch. I think she's a bullheaded drama queen using her past as an emotional crutch to avoid intimacy."
"Wow, sorry I asked."
"Don't," Alex sighed. "It's pretty much over. We're just waiting for one of us to make the final move for the last bought of break-up sex to finalize the deal."
"Stubborn, indecisive bitch. I can see that."
"I could hurt you, you know."
"Yes ma'am," he squinted his eyes slightly. He was pressing the issue, they both knew it. "Indecisive about what?"
"She had issues with the way I swing."
"Ah, and those issues caused her to avoid intimacy. Well, she looks pretty intimate to me." He pointed towards the table where Olivia and Casey were sitting. The two laughing at a private joke between them, leaning towards each other that, while on the surface, appeared to be professional was anything but.
"She's just using her to get back at me."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Because," Alex downed the last of her gin and tonic before flashing a devilish grin, "I'm doing the same with you."
**
"You lied to me!" Elliot's voice boomed across the Squad Room. He stormed towards her, a file in his hand.
"I didn't lie,” her fingers grazed across her forehead. A confrontation had been inevitable. She just wasn’t planning on it happening now. “This is my case. I'm the lead. I withheld information. You understand that part, don't you."
"Full cooperation. Which part of that is so hard for you to understand? The full or the cooperate part? You get a lead. You tell me about it?"
"Full cooperation my ass,” her voice dripped venom as she jabbed a finger pointedly at his chest. “Or was fact that all the victims were gay one of those pertinent facts that just escaped your mind?"
They were standing toe to toe now. He glared at her. She glared back, not backing down. Elliot could feel the other members of the Squad around them. They were tensing, some rising from their seats. He could see Munch in one corner of his eye, Fin in the other, Olivia standing in the background, arms folded over her chest.
They were drawing lines in the sand. Alex may not have been liked but, in the end, she was one of them. Elliot, most certainly, was not.
"It was a dead end, Stabler," Alex hissed.
"That dead end," he tapped the file onto her chest, "was an employee for an independent contractor. Guess where he was four months ago? Fort Lewis. Since this is your case, since you're the lead investigator, guess I don't have to tell you where he was before that."
**
She found him around the corner, leaning against a wall. She approached him cautiously, arms folded across her chest. She wasn't used to eating crow. "I called the 12th Precinct. They're sending a black and white to keep an eye on him."
He continued gazing at her. Watched as she refolded the arms across her chest, shifting from foot to foot. "Wow," he sat down on the windowsill, unable to withhold the soft smile forming on his lips, "You're not very good at this, are you?"
"Good at what?"
"Apologizing."
"Apologizing? I'm not," Alex cut herself off. Ran a hand across her forehead. "I've been told I can be a bit.. territorial at times."
"Apology accepted."
It finally occurred to her Elliot had forgiven her long before she‘d walked around the corner. And now, was merely toying with her while he waited for an apology. "You're an ass, you know that?"
"Yes ma'am."
There was a pregnant pause as the tone changed between them. The odd tension that was always creeping around between them had suddenly thickened.
"She's hovering, you know," Elliot made a cant with his eyebrow, pointing towards the brunette Alex could feel behind them. "I think she's jealous."
"I don't care."
"Good," he rose from his perch, leaning dangerously close to her as he moved back towards the Squad room, "because you're cute when you're territorial."
**
They'd been given one of the many cork boards that littered the Squad Room. Elliot had placed photos of each of the victims onto the board. He stood there, staring blankly at the pictures. As if, at any time, one of them would start speaking to him, giving him a clue, a hint, anything to get the case going.
Alex approached, flipping through her notes. "Different ages, different races, different units, different backgrounds, other than their sexuality and employer, there's no commonality. Nothing that links them together. How's he finding them?"
"People talk," Elliot shrugged matter of factly. "Most of them weren't particularly out. Nothing controversial in their records. But, I wouldn't call them closeted either. Plus, they had partners, all of them."
She exhaled, taking a seat next to him on the desk, eyes still gazing forward at the board, "Why do you think he chooses ones with partners?"
"Collateral damage. Twist the blade in a little more."
"Why do you care so much?"
"Is there a reason I shouldn't?"
**
"What's your story?" Alex leaned forward slightly, left hand propping up her head while her right lazily held her beer. It had become a routine between them, drinking at the Irish Pub. Circular conversations that, like a spiral moving inward, slowly crept towards the personal.
"What story?"
"Why'd you join the military?"
Elliot took a long pull from his beer. Setting the glass down, his thumb surreptitiously drawing the gold band around his finger. "Typical story. Boy meets girl. Girl gets pregnant. Boy marries girl and joins the military to support her." He took another long pull, draining the glass. "Girl dies while giving birth to our first child."
"I'm sorry." The word didn't seem to be enough. She hated herself for her inadequacies, at her inability to comfort another human being who needed it.
"After that, being a Marine was the only thing that made sense. The only thing that gave me purpose. The rest, as they say, is history." He gave another shrug. "What about you? What's your story?"
"Oh," she perked up at the shift in tone, "I was studying to be a lawyer, if you can believe it.” She noted the slight change in facial expression. “What?"
He chuckled, holding his hands up defensively. "I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to."
"Well, if I was going to say anything, which I wasn't, it would've been 'that explains it'."
"Explains what?"
"You have a certain 'air' about you."
"Yeah,” Alex snorted, “most people call it being a bitch."
"It was a compliment, Cabot."
"Well, at least you didn't call me 'ma'am'. And thank you."
"Anyway, you were saying?"
"Yes, anyway, I was studying to be a lawyer,” she leaned back in her chair, finger lazily circling the lip of her glass. “There was this student, raped and murdered on campus. I just remember thinking, she was screwed before she was raped. The police, God, they were inept, sexist, ineffective. I didn't want to just prosecute them anymore, I wanted to make sure the victims had a chance for justice by cops who actually gave a damn. It was a dark day at the Cabot household when I dropped that little pearl. The next day, I dropped out of law school and joined the Police Academy."
"Well, I, for one, am glad that you did. You're good at your job, Alex. Don't ever doubt that."
It had to have been the alcohol, or the excessive warmth of the bar. Either way, Alex was blushing.
**
They slammed against Alex's apartment door. Arms moving about, fighting for dominance. She yanked open his shirt. She'd imagined the body beneath the green camouflage uniform. Nothing could have prepared her for the reality. He was a mass of smooth skin pulled tight over perfectly sculpted muscles. She trailed her lips down his chest. Left streaks of pink coral lipstick as she hurriedly made her way downwards.
Alex loved men. The part of her sexuality that had driven a wedge between her and Olivia. She loved men, the smell of them, the taste, the feel. But, when it came to oral sex, Alex always turned into something of a prude. She could never separate the intimacy of the act with her feelings submission. And many a man had turned from her door because, while she would grab them by the head and shove them between her legs, they weren’t allowed to do the same.
With Elliot, Alex couldn’t get on her knees fast enough. Strong fingers thread into her hair as she undid his belt. Jerked his pants down past his hips, engulfing him down to the hilt. Licked. Sucked. Consumed. Inhaled him. Until his groans filled her ears. His stomach fluttered beneath the nails raking across them.
"Jesus," Elliot grunted. Hips arching convulsively towards her. He'd heard the rumors. Admittedly, allowed his preconceptions to cloud his judgment. Alex was no Ice Queen. She was fire, she was want, she was hunger. Nothing in the cold blue eyes and steely countenance could have prepared him for the fiery countenance lying just beneath.
He eased her up by the shoulders. Not sure how long he could hold back, wanting to be inside her when he did. They never made it to the bedroom. They didn't even make it to the couch.
Body arching, legs wrapping around his waist, Alex cried out as he entered her. Hard, jutting thrusts, where both grunted and groaned in tandem. A mutual release of the tension between them, from the world around them.
**
"Shit," she stared at the circular round packet, trying desperately to remember when she'd last taken a pill. It hadn't been when she was supposed to. That much, she knew. Now, she stood in her bathroom, towel wrapped around her, feeling the nagging thoughts of guilt and remorse creeping into her brain.
She'd forgotten to take her pill. She'd forgotten to ask him if he'd been tested. She'd forgotten to use a condom. Twice. The last one hadn't been as much a memory lapse as a complete loss of reason. She'd told him it was safe. Just couldn't explain the need to feel him inside her. To feel something besides emptiness, sorrow, death.
Her on again, off again relationship with Olivia had made her lax. There was no need to contemplate an accidental pregnancy when she could fuck 24/7, weeks on end, because her partner was a woman. Going back on the pill had been almost an after thought. With the relationship in a definite 'off' mode, the chance of her having sex with a man was, while almost nil, inevitable.
But being this stupid..
She set the container down. Wiped the condensation off the mirror. Stared at her reflection wondering what the Hell was wrong with her.
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Case File, AU, First Time
Pairings: Alex/Elliot, slight Alex/Olivia, minor Olivia/Casey
Rating: Mature.
Word Count: 3054
Summary: AU. What if Alex had never finished law school? What if Elliot never left the military?
A/N: While it's not my intention to post *another* WiP, this one has been sitting on my hard drive for going on 4 months. And I knew that if I didn't post *something* I'd never finish it. This is an experiment that was originally supposed to be a series of drabbles tied together in one story. But the drabbles turned into longer than drabbles, and the pacing is kinda weird, and I'm hoping everything ties in at the end.
The Other Side
**
Today was going to suck. The sun hadn’t even crested over the horizon and she could feel the bad mood enveloping around her like a death shroud. All she needed was an actual shroud, a sickle and the look would be complete.
She was also getting a headache. Could already feel the dull pounding sensation, blood vessels contracting painfully in her skull. The weight from her job was always there, pressing on her shoulders, getting heavier by the day. She'd seen too much, too many dead bodies, too many victims with haunted eyes, with scars that went deeper than mere flesh and bone.
Before she even reached the scene, the scent of death hung in the air. The metallic tang of blood mixed with the other pungent odors of death. It wasn't like in the movies. The flickering images could only show death, never what it felt like, what it smelled like. Death was never pleasant. It smelled worse.
She crossed the police line. Felt the glare of the uniforms, of the plain-clothed detectives. Could practically hear their thoughts as she crossed their line of vision. She'd heard them all - Bitch, Rich Kid, Ass Kisser, Daddy's Girl, Whore, Ice-Queen. Her personal favorite was ‘the Borg Queen’. It had at least required a certain amount of thought and imagination.
“You look like shit, Detective,” ME Warner smirked as she entered the tiny bedroom.
"I love you, too," she leaned down next to Warner, pulling on the standard issue rubber gloves. "What have we got?"
She listened as the ME spouted off the facts. The scene showed her everything she needed to know. It hadn't been quick. It hadn't been painless. It had been brutal, violent, lasting longer than any human deserved. The phone still in the victim's hand. Her body laid where she died, bleeding to death while pleading for help. She felt her heart twisting at the pain of another loss. The young woman, no more than twenty, had been somebody's daughter, friend, lover, sister.
Now? She was nothing more than a body.
"Detective Cabot?"
Alex rose to her feet. Captain Cragen entered the room. A slight wince in his eyes as he quickly canvassed the scene. He was followed by a man in military uniform. Tall, dark hair, deep blue eyes. An air of staunch military professionalism about him, even if his BDU's were slightly wrinkled. Alex hadn't been the only one awoken in the middle of the night, she‘d thought with a slight smirk.
"Cap'n?"
Cragen gave her a look that was both apologetic and resolute. The kind of look that told her she wasn't going to like what he had to say and there would be no arguing afterwards.
"Alex,” he nodded his head towards the man standing next to him, “this is Lieutenant Colonel Elliot Stabler."
She took Stabler's offered hand. She noted the strong formal grip, taking a glance at his stripes. Marine. He smiled courteously despite the obvious look of displeasure Alex returned.
"Ma'am."
"What can I do for you Lt. Col?"
Cragen took a step closer as she released Stabler‘s grip. "You can give him your full cooperation. Until this case closes, he's your new partner."
**
The file was as thick as her forearm. She'd practically grunted while hoisting it onto her lap. She thumbed through the case files. The faces of both men and women stared back at her. The youngest was nineteen, the oldest, thirty-five. All were military.
"I guess this is the long story," she sighed.
"Yes ma'am," Stabler took a sip from his coffee.
"And the short story?"
"Serial killer. With a taste for murder and a hatred for anything military."
"Jesus," the implications hit her immediately. This could get political, in a hurry. Politics had a way of mucking up a case. They'd have to work fast if they wanted to catch this guy. "How have you guys managed to keep a lid on it?"
"He never hit's the same place twice. Plus, this is only the second murder to happen off base. The last one was four months ago outside Fort Lewis."
"How'd you know he was in New York?"
His face darkened. She felt a shiver run down her spine, it wasn't from the cold. "Long story."
**
The question hung in the air. Elliot stared at her, waiting for a response. She glared at him. He'd pissed her off. Again.
"Would you stop that?"
He peered at her questioningly over the lip of his coffee. "Ma'am?"
"That,” she gaped back. “That 'ma'am' shit. Call me Cabot, or Detective.."
"Ishmael?"
"Shut up."
"Yes ma'am."
For the first time, Elliot saw Alex smile.
**
"Her parents called. Said if I came to the funeral they'd have me arrested." Her name was Melody, Private Armstrong's girlfriend. She stood outside the coffee shop where she worked, a hand nervous flicking ash from her cigarette. Her eyes darted from Alex to Elliot. "They blame me.
"Melody," Elliot pressed a hand gently on her shoulder, "it's not your fault."
Alex hung in the background. She'd never been particularly good at this part of the job. She lacked the finesse of the other Detectives. She could bring a perp to his knees with a glare. Could make men twice her size think twice. But put her next to a grieving young woman and Alex had the social graces of a gnat. Her partnership with Olivia had made her better, just no where close to good.
Elliot was like Olivia in this regard. His strong presence and sympathetic eyes put the young woman at ease. Within minutes, she trusted him. Trusted that he didn't judge her, didn't hate her, would find justice for her and her partner.
"Why would somebody do this?" Her eyes went from Elliot's to Alex's.
Alex didn't know.
***
"So," Olivia leaned against the sink, arms folded across her chest. "How're things with your new partner?"
Alex continued running her hands under the tap. Tried to hide the instantaneous jolt of tension squeezing her muscles. "Temporary."
"He seems alright."
"Does he?"
"Yeah, in an Irish-Catholic, married kinda way."
She didn't have time for this shit. She'd seen the ring. Had watched the thousand fantasies pop like tiny bubbles as the gold band flashed in her vision. Alex hastily snatched several paper towels from the dispenser. What she'd once considered an attractive quality in the brunette, her overbearing sense of propriety, had now become an irritant. She'd stopped being Olivia's a long time ago. It had long since passed the time to cut the cord. "I left a box with the last of your things by the door. I won't be home this evening. It'd be nice if it was gone when I came back. And don't let the cat out."
"Don't worry, Alex,” Olivia’s lips pulled into a smile that, several days ago, would have sent Alex to her knees. “I know how to contain your pussy."
***
"What's the story?" Elliot asked. They sat side by side at the small Irish pub the 16th Precinct frequented more than occasionally. "Between you and Benson. If you don't mind me asking."
Normally, she would have minded but she was too shocked that he'd noticed to be angry. Shocked that she hadn't kept her feelings closer to her chest.
"We're at an impasse,” she shrugged indifferently. “We can't agree upon who broke up with whom. She thinks I'm a stubborn, indecisive bitch. I think she's a bullheaded drama queen using her past as an emotional crutch to avoid intimacy."
"Wow, sorry I asked."
"Don't," Alex sighed. "It's pretty much over. We're just waiting for one of us to make the final move for the last bought of break-up sex to finalize the deal."
"Stubborn, indecisive bitch. I can see that."
"I could hurt you, you know."
"Yes ma'am," he squinted his eyes slightly. He was pressing the issue, they both knew it. "Indecisive about what?"
"She had issues with the way I swing."
"Ah, and those issues caused her to avoid intimacy. Well, she looks pretty intimate to me." He pointed towards the table where Olivia and Casey were sitting. The two laughing at a private joke between them, leaning towards each other that, while on the surface, appeared to be professional was anything but.
"She's just using her to get back at me."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Because," Alex downed the last of her gin and tonic before flashing a devilish grin, "I'm doing the same with you."
**
"You lied to me!" Elliot's voice boomed across the Squad Room. He stormed towards her, a file in his hand.
"I didn't lie,” her fingers grazed across her forehead. A confrontation had been inevitable. She just wasn’t planning on it happening now. “This is my case. I'm the lead. I withheld information. You understand that part, don't you."
"Full cooperation. Which part of that is so hard for you to understand? The full or the cooperate part? You get a lead. You tell me about it?"
"Full cooperation my ass,” her voice dripped venom as she jabbed a finger pointedly at his chest. “Or was fact that all the victims were gay one of those pertinent facts that just escaped your mind?"
They were standing toe to toe now. He glared at her. She glared back, not backing down. Elliot could feel the other members of the Squad around them. They were tensing, some rising from their seats. He could see Munch in one corner of his eye, Fin in the other, Olivia standing in the background, arms folded over her chest.
They were drawing lines in the sand. Alex may not have been liked but, in the end, she was one of them. Elliot, most certainly, was not.
"It was a dead end, Stabler," Alex hissed.
"That dead end," he tapped the file onto her chest, "was an employee for an independent contractor. Guess where he was four months ago? Fort Lewis. Since this is your case, since you're the lead investigator, guess I don't have to tell you where he was before that."
**
She found him around the corner, leaning against a wall. She approached him cautiously, arms folded across her chest. She wasn't used to eating crow. "I called the 12th Precinct. They're sending a black and white to keep an eye on him."
He continued gazing at her. Watched as she refolded the arms across her chest, shifting from foot to foot. "Wow," he sat down on the windowsill, unable to withhold the soft smile forming on his lips, "You're not very good at this, are you?"
"Good at what?"
"Apologizing."
"Apologizing? I'm not," Alex cut herself off. Ran a hand across her forehead. "I've been told I can be a bit.. territorial at times."
"Apology accepted."
It finally occurred to her Elliot had forgiven her long before she‘d walked around the corner. And now, was merely toying with her while he waited for an apology. "You're an ass, you know that?"
"Yes ma'am."
There was a pregnant pause as the tone changed between them. The odd tension that was always creeping around between them had suddenly thickened.
"She's hovering, you know," Elliot made a cant with his eyebrow, pointing towards the brunette Alex could feel behind them. "I think she's jealous."
"I don't care."
"Good," he rose from his perch, leaning dangerously close to her as he moved back towards the Squad room, "because you're cute when you're territorial."
**
They'd been given one of the many cork boards that littered the Squad Room. Elliot had placed photos of each of the victims onto the board. He stood there, staring blankly at the pictures. As if, at any time, one of them would start speaking to him, giving him a clue, a hint, anything to get the case going.
Alex approached, flipping through her notes. "Different ages, different races, different units, different backgrounds, other than their sexuality and employer, there's no commonality. Nothing that links them together. How's he finding them?"
"People talk," Elliot shrugged matter of factly. "Most of them weren't particularly out. Nothing controversial in their records. But, I wouldn't call them closeted either. Plus, they had partners, all of them."
She exhaled, taking a seat next to him on the desk, eyes still gazing forward at the board, "Why do you think he chooses ones with partners?"
"Collateral damage. Twist the blade in a little more."
"Why do you care so much?"
"Is there a reason I shouldn't?"
**
"What's your story?" Alex leaned forward slightly, left hand propping up her head while her right lazily held her beer. It had become a routine between them, drinking at the Irish Pub. Circular conversations that, like a spiral moving inward, slowly crept towards the personal.
"What story?"
"Why'd you join the military?"
Elliot took a long pull from his beer. Setting the glass down, his thumb surreptitiously drawing the gold band around his finger. "Typical story. Boy meets girl. Girl gets pregnant. Boy marries girl and joins the military to support her." He took another long pull, draining the glass. "Girl dies while giving birth to our first child."
"I'm sorry." The word didn't seem to be enough. She hated herself for her inadequacies, at her inability to comfort another human being who needed it.
"After that, being a Marine was the only thing that made sense. The only thing that gave me purpose. The rest, as they say, is history." He gave another shrug. "What about you? What's your story?"
"Oh," she perked up at the shift in tone, "I was studying to be a lawyer, if you can believe it.” She noted the slight change in facial expression. “What?"
He chuckled, holding his hands up defensively. "I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to."
"Well, if I was going to say anything, which I wasn't, it would've been 'that explains it'."
"Explains what?"
"You have a certain 'air' about you."
"Yeah,” Alex snorted, “most people call it being a bitch."
"It was a compliment, Cabot."
"Well, at least you didn't call me 'ma'am'. And thank you."
"Anyway, you were saying?"
"Yes, anyway, I was studying to be a lawyer,” she leaned back in her chair, finger lazily circling the lip of her glass. “There was this student, raped and murdered on campus. I just remember thinking, she was screwed before she was raped. The police, God, they were inept, sexist, ineffective. I didn't want to just prosecute them anymore, I wanted to make sure the victims had a chance for justice by cops who actually gave a damn. It was a dark day at the Cabot household when I dropped that little pearl. The next day, I dropped out of law school and joined the Police Academy."
"Well, I, for one, am glad that you did. You're good at your job, Alex. Don't ever doubt that."
It had to have been the alcohol, or the excessive warmth of the bar. Either way, Alex was blushing.
**
They slammed against Alex's apartment door. Arms moving about, fighting for dominance. She yanked open his shirt. She'd imagined the body beneath the green camouflage uniform. Nothing could have prepared her for the reality. He was a mass of smooth skin pulled tight over perfectly sculpted muscles. She trailed her lips down his chest. Left streaks of pink coral lipstick as she hurriedly made her way downwards.
Alex loved men. The part of her sexuality that had driven a wedge between her and Olivia. She loved men, the smell of them, the taste, the feel. But, when it came to oral sex, Alex always turned into something of a prude. She could never separate the intimacy of the act with her feelings submission. And many a man had turned from her door because, while she would grab them by the head and shove them between her legs, they weren’t allowed to do the same.
With Elliot, Alex couldn’t get on her knees fast enough. Strong fingers thread into her hair as she undid his belt. Jerked his pants down past his hips, engulfing him down to the hilt. Licked. Sucked. Consumed. Inhaled him. Until his groans filled her ears. His stomach fluttered beneath the nails raking across them.
"Jesus," Elliot grunted. Hips arching convulsively towards her. He'd heard the rumors. Admittedly, allowed his preconceptions to cloud his judgment. Alex was no Ice Queen. She was fire, she was want, she was hunger. Nothing in the cold blue eyes and steely countenance could have prepared him for the fiery countenance lying just beneath.
He eased her up by the shoulders. Not sure how long he could hold back, wanting to be inside her when he did. They never made it to the bedroom. They didn't even make it to the couch.
Body arching, legs wrapping around his waist, Alex cried out as he entered her. Hard, jutting thrusts, where both grunted and groaned in tandem. A mutual release of the tension between them, from the world around them.
**
"Shit," she stared at the circular round packet, trying desperately to remember when she'd last taken a pill. It hadn't been when she was supposed to. That much, she knew. Now, she stood in her bathroom, towel wrapped around her, feeling the nagging thoughts of guilt and remorse creeping into her brain.
She'd forgotten to take her pill. She'd forgotten to ask him if he'd been tested. She'd forgotten to use a condom. Twice. The last one hadn't been as much a memory lapse as a complete loss of reason. She'd told him it was safe. Just couldn't explain the need to feel him inside her. To feel something besides emptiness, sorrow, death.
Her on again, off again relationship with Olivia had made her lax. There was no need to contemplate an accidental pregnancy when she could fuck 24/7, weeks on end, because her partner was a woman. Going back on the pill had been almost an after thought. With the relationship in a definite 'off' mode, the chance of her having sex with a man was, while almost nil, inevitable.
But being this stupid..
She set the container down. Wiped the condensation off the mirror. Stared at her reflection wondering what the Hell was wrong with her.