SVU Fic: The Last To Know Chapter Two
The Last To Know
**
Chapter Two
**
She was the last to know.
Alex had called everyone. Donnelly. Branch. Cragen. Elliot. She’d called everyone but Olivia.
In two weeks, there hadn’t been a single phone call, letter, email. Alex hadn’t come running back into Olivia’s arms. Olivia refused to run into hers. When confronted with a problem she couldn‘t arrest, kick or fuck her way out of, Olivia went into her default mode - she brooded. She sat in her apartment, the tv, lights, radio all turned off, wearing sweatpants and a sports bra, staring blankly at the objects sitting on her coffee table. Her gun. A bottle of Stoli. A phone. She didn't know which one to reach for first.
Some days, she loved her job. Loved taking down the filth, looking evil dead in the eye and being the last to laugh.
Some days, the guilt weighed down on her so hard she thought she'd break. Unsure how many more victims she could take. How many more broken bodies, with broken souls and empty eyes, she could stand to look at. To promise she'd deliver them justice, only to fail at keeping her word.
She'd made such a promise to Alex. In between hushed whispers and not so hushed moans, she'd promised; to keep her safe, to protect her, to never stop loving her. She failed on all accounts.
Olivia reached for the bottle, a third of it already sloshing around in her gut. Twisted the cap off and tossing it haphazardly somewhere into the darkness. Tossed back a healthy swallow. Let the bitter taste wash away the memory of Alex on her tongue. Dulled the images, the sensations flooding her brain. Of sweat and skin. The smell of her. The taste of her. The tilt of her head thrown back in the ecstasy. The parting of lips, full, lush, red, just before the last exhaled breath of orgasm. Hands wildly grasping at Olivia’s shoulders, the headboard, the sheets. The thrust of hips. The wetness. Skin. Sweat. Sex.
Eyes closed, Olivia wallowed in the memory as one hand leisurely brought the bottle to her lips. The other casually making its way between her legs, pressing against the dull throbbing ache the images always produced.
“If you loved her so much..”
The images faded. Now, all Olivia could see were her own hands. The same hands that held Alex, touched her, caressed her, held her, made her come. Hands clasped together pressing downward. The feel of blood as it pulsed through her fingers. The blankness of blue eyes glazed over with death.
"..why didn't you go with her?"
The question, the accusation lingered, longer than she wanted. Hit her harder than Casey could ever have been aware of. It had been the question she'd asked herself every day since that fateful night.
She was a cop. A protector. A defender. What she did. Who she was. And she kept failing. From the youngest to the oldest, she could never concentrate on her successes when the failures cut so deep. The images of Alex eventually morphed into the other person she failed. Blonde hair and blue eyes lying face up on cold cement replaced with red hair and green eyes lying battered and bleeding on an office room floor.
The bottle, now empty, was replaced with the phone. She sat on the couch listening to the other end. She'd memorized the routine by heart. Four ring tones then the tinny polite voice asking her to leave her name and a message. She never did, preferring to hang up and try again. Alex couldn’t avoid her forever.
In between swigs from the bottle and subconsciously hitting redial, the voice on the other end changed.
“Novak.”
"I need to see you."
"I can't," Casey sighed into the phone, both knowing the intent of Olivia's request. ‘Seeing' didn't mean talking. It didn‘t mean enjoying the pleasure of the other‘s company. It meant Olivia taking off Casey's clothes. Casey's begrudging consent and sex that had both everything and nothing to do with Casey.
“You can’t?” She cocked an eyebrow, forcing her voice into a seductive purr. There was a pause on the other end.
“I won’t.” Another pause. One that let Olivia know Casey meant what she said. There’d be no seduction. No casual flirtations. No empty protestations. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Maybe, not ever.
"Fuck you!" Olivia spat before throwing the phone into the darkness. She sat up slightly. All she had left on the table was her gun. Clasping it in her hand, Olivia removed the clip, cleared the chamber and put the safety on before returning it to its holster. She rose from the couch. The phone was around somewhere and she was sure there was another bottle in the fridge.
End Chapter Two
**
Chapter Two
**
She was the last to know.
Alex had called everyone. Donnelly. Branch. Cragen. Elliot. She’d called everyone but Olivia.
In two weeks, there hadn’t been a single phone call, letter, email. Alex hadn’t come running back into Olivia’s arms. Olivia refused to run into hers. When confronted with a problem she couldn‘t arrest, kick or fuck her way out of, Olivia went into her default mode - she brooded. She sat in her apartment, the tv, lights, radio all turned off, wearing sweatpants and a sports bra, staring blankly at the objects sitting on her coffee table. Her gun. A bottle of Stoli. A phone. She didn't know which one to reach for first.
Some days, she loved her job. Loved taking down the filth, looking evil dead in the eye and being the last to laugh.
Some days, the guilt weighed down on her so hard she thought she'd break. Unsure how many more victims she could take. How many more broken bodies, with broken souls and empty eyes, she could stand to look at. To promise she'd deliver them justice, only to fail at keeping her word.
She'd made such a promise to Alex. In between hushed whispers and not so hushed moans, she'd promised; to keep her safe, to protect her, to never stop loving her. She failed on all accounts.
Olivia reached for the bottle, a third of it already sloshing around in her gut. Twisted the cap off and tossing it haphazardly somewhere into the darkness. Tossed back a healthy swallow. Let the bitter taste wash away the memory of Alex on her tongue. Dulled the images, the sensations flooding her brain. Of sweat and skin. The smell of her. The taste of her. The tilt of her head thrown back in the ecstasy. The parting of lips, full, lush, red, just before the last exhaled breath of orgasm. Hands wildly grasping at Olivia’s shoulders, the headboard, the sheets. The thrust of hips. The wetness. Skin. Sweat. Sex.
Eyes closed, Olivia wallowed in the memory as one hand leisurely brought the bottle to her lips. The other casually making its way between her legs, pressing against the dull throbbing ache the images always produced.
“If you loved her so much..”
The images faded. Now, all Olivia could see were her own hands. The same hands that held Alex, touched her, caressed her, held her, made her come. Hands clasped together pressing downward. The feel of blood as it pulsed through her fingers. The blankness of blue eyes glazed over with death.
"..why didn't you go with her?"
The question, the accusation lingered, longer than she wanted. Hit her harder than Casey could ever have been aware of. It had been the question she'd asked herself every day since that fateful night.
She was a cop. A protector. A defender. What she did. Who she was. And she kept failing. From the youngest to the oldest, she could never concentrate on her successes when the failures cut so deep. The images of Alex eventually morphed into the other person she failed. Blonde hair and blue eyes lying face up on cold cement replaced with red hair and green eyes lying battered and bleeding on an office room floor.
The bottle, now empty, was replaced with the phone. She sat on the couch listening to the other end. She'd memorized the routine by heart. Four ring tones then the tinny polite voice asking her to leave her name and a message. She never did, preferring to hang up and try again. Alex couldn’t avoid her forever.
In between swigs from the bottle and subconsciously hitting redial, the voice on the other end changed.
“Novak.”
"I need to see you."
"I can't," Casey sighed into the phone, both knowing the intent of Olivia's request. ‘Seeing' didn't mean talking. It didn‘t mean enjoying the pleasure of the other‘s company. It meant Olivia taking off Casey's clothes. Casey's begrudging consent and sex that had both everything and nothing to do with Casey.
“You can’t?” She cocked an eyebrow, forcing her voice into a seductive purr. There was a pause on the other end.
“I won’t.” Another pause. One that let Olivia know Casey meant what she said. There’d be no seduction. No casual flirtations. No empty protestations. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Maybe, not ever.
"Fuck you!" Olivia spat before throwing the phone into the darkness. She sat up slightly. All she had left on the table was her gun. Clasping it in her hand, Olivia removed the clip, cleared the chamber and put the safety on before returning it to its holster. She rose from the couch. The phone was around somewhere and she was sure there was another bottle in the fridge.
End Chapter Two