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“Did I ever tell you why I wanted to work SVU?” Alex asks. Her face is tight, her gaze averted, like she doesn’t want Olivia to see what she’s about to say when she looks into her eyes.
Olivia knows. Alex knows that Olivia knows. Not the details, not the depths of the pain Alex has hidden under an icy facade for decades, but she sees the way Alex flinches when someone raises a hand too quickly. How she’ll sometimes come out of the shower, skin rubbed pink and raw, immediately diving under the covers in silence until she emerges the next morning, ready not to talk about it. How a lifetime ago, she would throw herself into certain cases, the anger bubbling just under her skin like molten lava in her veins.
“I figured the Morris commision sicced you on us to keep our asses in line.” Olivia tries to break the tension – she knows what’s coming, but the thought of being the one to pose the question is nauseating. She knows that question never means anything good. Her own answer is one of the less horrific ones she’s heard, after decades of detectives walking through those doors, taking their deepest pain and trying to turn it into something worthwhile.
The corners of Alex’s mouth perk up at that. “Okay, yes,” she admits. “But after that. Why I kept coming back, even though I’d been offered positions with much better pay, let alone upward mobility. Did you ever wonder?”
“I take it it wasn’t our squad’s effortless charm?” Olivia jokes. Alex smiles again, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hey, sorry,” Olivia adds. “You’re trying to tell me something. I’m listening, I’m not trying to make light of it.”
Alex’s hand comes to rest on hers on the couch cushion between them. “I know,” she half whispers. “It’s just hard.”
Olivia squeezes Alex’s hand in hers. “Start wherever you can, honey. I’m here.”
She studies Alex’s face. She squeezes her eyes shut briefly, her blonde locks waving as she shakes her head slightly, as if trying to shake off whatever memories are currently torturing her. Olivia watches Alex’s shoulders rise and fall with her breath, sees the way her free hand goes to rest over the scar on her shoulder, a mindless, anxious habit Alex had picked up over the years.
“Do you remember Sam Cavanaugh?” Alex finally asks. Olivia’s brow furrows for a moment.
“Do I remember the three of us nearly getting fired? Of course,” Olivia supplies, and Alex huffs out a quiet, amused sound. “What about him?”
Alex chews on the inside of her cheek, her fingertips press harder into her scar. It sends little electric shocks down her fingertips – residual nerve damage that never quite healed. The slight pain keeps her grounded, keeps her in the present instead of getting lost in her head, time traveling back to those god awful years.
“That was the first time I seriously broke the law as a prosecutor,” Alex explains. “I couldn’t just stand by and watch that boy suffer. I couldn’t let him live the rest of his life with all of that damage and the knowledge that the man who did it to him was out on the street. I couldn’t. I just… I couldn’t.”
The fingers intertwined with Olivia’s squeeze tighter, like she’s trying to prove something. Her breath gets faster, she can feel the electric shocks running through her fingers, her wrist, her shoulder.
“I know baby,” Olivia soothes. “I know. You risked everything to help that boy.”
“What did I really risk?” Alex asks, her throat tight with tears. “What did I have to lose, compared to him? He lost his childhood, his sense of safety, he almost lost his life. After the whole debacle, Donnelly asked if I’d assuaged my guilt . I told her it wasn’t going to happen any time soon, and she told me that it never would. I still feel it. Every day of my life.”
Olivia’s concern is growing as Alex’s grip tightens, as her voice gets louder and more panicked. “Hey, Alex, breathe. Come on, you’re alright,” she comforts, rubbing her thumb along the woman’s thin hand. “You did everything you could. You don’t have to feel any guilt anymore.”
“I don’t feel guilty for what I did then,” Alex half laughs, half sobs. “Every time… every single time I looked at that boy, whether it was during trial prep, or in that damn hospital bed, I saw myself. I saw him doing what I never could, and nearly dying for it. I could have done better. I should have done better. How many kids like him are suffering quietly, because it’s easier than what we ask them to do? How dare I keep asking them to do what I couldn’t?”
Alex feels Olivia’s grip on her hand tighten, hears her breathing harder, but she can’t react to it. She presses harder and harder against the ragged tissue on her shoulder, tries to let the burning pain soothe her, but it isn’t enough. She tastes blood in her mouth, not knowing if it’s happening now from how hard she’s biting down on her own flesh, or if it’s a memory, choking on her own blood and silence as she tries to be anywhere else.
“Alex, honey, you aren’t breathing,” Olivia finally speaks. Warm hands touch her face, turn her toward Olivia, her chocolate eyes full of warmth and concern. “Come on, breathe with me. In and out.”
Alex takes a shaky inhale, allowing Olivia’s words to wash over her. “You’re doing great. You’re safe, Alex. Breathe out for me. I’ve got you.”
A sob escapes her on an exhale, and she finds her face buried in Olivia’s neck, hot tears rushing down her face. The salt mixes with the copper in her mouth, shame creeping up her neck as she cries into Olivia’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she cries, a broken whisper compared to her normal strong tone. “I should be able to talk about this. I should have told you before.”
Olivia’s hand rubs soothing circles over her back, her lips peppering kisses to Alex’s hairline. “You can tell me whatever you want to. Your own pace, Alex, I don’t care that you didn’t tell me before. It’s your story to tell.”
After a few minutes, the tears begin to slow, her breathing evens out. Olivia’s hand never leaves her back, her thumb tracing patterns across Alex’s upper spine as she whispers assurances of safety and love. Alex peels away from her shoulder, a pang of guilt rushing through her veins at the sad look on Olivia’s face.
“I was only thirteen,” she begins. “When it started, at least. He was my tutor. A grad student my parents hired to try to get my test scores up. As if an A-minus in seventh grade math was going to be the end of my academic career.”
The hand not rubbing circles over Alex’s back tangles in her hair, brushing tear-soaked strands away from her face. Olivia stays silent, letting Alex take the reins, though the blonde can see all of the questions, all of the anger and sadness for young Alex washing over her face.
“I'd rather they’d just let me fail,” she admits. “He was… fine, at first. I was a little insulted by the idea that I needed any help in school, so I was snippy and rude. It drove my mother crazy, but he never got angry. In fact, I started trying harder just to prove I didn’t need the help, which just convinced my parents to keep him around. I brought home an A+ at the end of the semester, and he took me out for dinner. No funny business, just a reward for my hard work.”
Olivia nods along, continuing to run her hands through Alex’s hair, tracing patterns from her ribs to her neck. Whether she was attempting to ground herself or Alex, she wasn’t sure.
“What changed?” Olivia asks gently.Alex huffs drily.
“I should have seen it. It’s so obvious looking back but…” The shame creeps up her neck, her eyes welling back up. “I should have known. I was stupid.”
Olivia’s hands don’t leave Alex’s skin, but she leans closer in, pulling Alex back into her chest. “You weren’t stupid, Alex. You were so little. It wasn’t your fault, whatever happened.”
Alex breathes in Olivia’s scent, amber and cinnamon, allowing it to wash over her with the sound of her voice and the feeling of her warm hands. After a minute or two, she pulls back – still half plastered to Olivia’s body, but able to face her.
“They kept him around. He was helping me, and I warmed up to him. I thought he was so cool, you know?” Alex continues. “He took so much interest in me. He’d take me to nice dinners, buy me gifts as rewards for doing well in school. Not the things my parents wanted me to like– they always wanted me to be more feminine, I’d get clothes and jewelry for Christmas that I’d only wear to please them for family photos. He bought me nice leather journals, cassettes of the music I liked, art from the beautiful places he went on holiday. It felt like he really saw me , rather than who everyone wanted to be. I was naive. I thought it meant he liked me.”
Olivia kisses Alex’s shoulder, a habit of hers that brings comfort to them both. “You were allowed to be naive, Alex,” she states. “You were a child. You weren’t old enough to know what was and wasn’t normal or safe.”
Alex doesn’t respond to Olivia’s assurances. She wishes so desperately she could let them sink into her skin, let Olivia’s warmth wash over her body, finally letting her feel safe again, but she can’t let herself.
“I developed a little crush on him. I always wanted to impress him. I’d work harder in school so he’d be proud of me, I’d dress up a little when he was coming over. One night, he wanted to take me out for dinner to reward me for doing so well on an exam. It was some fancy French place, he ordered in the language and I was starstruck. I spent the entire night trying to impress him. I went and put lip gloss on in the bathroom and tried to talk about music and literature without stumbling over myself so he’d think I was mature.” More tears slip down her face at the admission. “I hate myself for that. I know I… I couldn’t have known, but didn’t I? At least a part of me?”
Olivia pulls her in, holds Alex tight to her chest. “Honey, you know as well as I do that it’s normal to feel things like that when you’re young,” Olivia assures. “How many girls have said that exact same thing to one of us over the years?”
“I can’t even count,” Alex sniffles.
“Exactly. And how many did we assure that no matter how they felt, it wasn’t their fault, that it was the adult’s responsibility to be safe and ignore it?”
“All of them,” Alex admits. “I know. Logically, I know, but… I can’t feel it. I’m so embarrassed. I can’t even believe I’m telling you this right now.”
Olivia kisses the top of her head. “It takes a while for our hearts to catch up with our brains,” she says. “But I’ve got you. I’m so proud of you for telling me. What happened next, honey?”
Alex takes a deep breath. This is the hardest part. Not the worst part– not by any means, but the part that keeps her awake at night, the part that stokes the burning shame in the pit of her stomach every time she remembers.
“I was telling him about some piece I’d learned on piano recently,” she begins, leaning further into Olivia. Olivia just wraps her arms around her tighter, resumes her calming strokes up and down Alex’s back. “Debussy’s Reverie . He said he’d love to hear me play. Invited me back to his place after we left so he could listen. It was the best I’d ever played– I’m sure my little old piano teacher would have had a heart attack knowing that the first time I’d ever played it without screwing up was for a man more than twice my age.”
She looks up at Olivia before the next part. Alex isn’t sure what she expects to see in her eyes – disgust, horror, judgement – but all she sees is love. Olivia’s endless well of compassion, reflected in her warm brown eyes, channeling all of her love into Alex’s soul.
It gets to her far more than any words.
Another tear escapes her eyes.
“He sat next to me on the piano bench after I played. God, I can still smell his cologne,” Alex shudders. “He told me how beautiful I was. How proud he was of me, how he could tell how mature I was compared to the rest of his students. That they were children but I… I was a young woman, and he couldn’t resist his feelings toward me anymore.”
Olivia’s gaze softens even further, and Alex bites so hard on the inside of her cheek she draws blood. She knows it’s real this time.
“He kissed me,” Alex admits. She lets it hang in the air for a moment before continuing, quieter, more ashamed. “And I kissed him back. I was thirteen, I’d never even kissed a boy before, and now I’m making out with my twenty seven year old math tutor on his piano bench. Why didn’t I realize how wrong that was?”
“Because you were a child ,” Olivia reminds her. “From a home where you didn’t feel seen. He saw that. He made you feel important and wanted. You know that’s what predators do. I know that.”
Alex nods into Olivia’s shoulder, reminded of her girlfriend’s own hauntingly similar experiences as a teenager. “He didn’t… not that night,” Alex trips over the words. “Not that he didn’t want to. He told me that I was too young, that he wanted me to think about it for a little bit. I’d never even considered doing that… never considered having sex with someone. But he said it like it made sense. Like it was the next logical step. I felt amazed that someone would want me like that. That I was pretty enough for this handsome, smart, mature , man to want to touch me. I hate that. I hate that I didn’t see it for what it was.”
Alex is sobbing now, the tears escaping her faster than she can wipe them away. She knows Olivia is minding her breathing as she holds her, that as much as she’s trying to comfort Alex with her touch, she’s also trying to keep her from shattering into a million pieces.
Alex knows the concern is valid. She thinks that if Olivia let go, she might just break in a way that couldn’t be repaired.
The tears slow over the minutes, Olivia whispering into her hair and rocking slightly.
“Oh, my love,” Olivia says softly, Alex exhaling some of the tension in her body as the soft vibrations run over her scalp. “You’re safe. I’ve got you. You can stop whenever you want.”
Alex presses further into Olivia, not wanting her to see her tear stained face, the tooth marks in her bottom lip from digging in in an attempt to ground herself. Olivia doesn’t comment, just keeps her arms wrapped around the taller woman, continuing to comfort her.
“I turned fourteen a few weeks later,” Alex continues, and she feels Olivia’s grasp tighten just a little at the reminder of just how small Alex was. “He took me out the night before my birthday– we went to the MoMA and some nice Italian place before going back to his house. He said he had a surprise for me there.”
Alex feels Olivia breathe deeply below her, and she knows that Olivia knows what she’s going to say.
The idea of saying it aloud had made her sick for years . The idea of Olivia knowing– of Olivia looking at Alex and seeing a victim, a case, rather than her friend, her girlfriend, her (hopefully) future-wife nauseated her. Olivia knowing why her skin crawled when she was touched without warning, why she scrubbed her skin raw in the shower around her birthday, why she got so angry over certain cases back in the day. Olivia knew everything about Alex– the way she held her posture when she was trying not to come across as impatient (though she definitely was), the exact temperature she liked her coffee (nearly hot enough to burn the roof of her mouth), the way her fingers itched for a cigarette on nights when she worked herself to the bone (despite quitting years ago, when she realized how anxious the lingering scent of tobacco made Olivia). Olivia knew all of the terror and confusion Alex had experienced in the program, knew the horrors that haunted her from her time in the Congo. Olivia knew Alex .
It was time for her to know this.
“He had rose petals laid out on the fucking bed, Liv. As if it were romantic . Even then, with my little crush and desperation to impress him, even with how much I thought about kissing him, I just remember feeling my heart drop into my stomach. I already knew what he wanted, but it was different than having it right in front of me,” Alex grits her teeth, the well of sadness and fear slowly being replaced with anger that someone could do that to a child. “I froze. I told him I wasn’t ready, that maybe we could just kiss again, but he…”
Alex pauses to take a breath. To prepare herself for the words that haven’t escaped her lips in decades.
“He didn’t take no for an answer. He told me I was being a tease, dressing like I was, letting him buy me dinner, agreeing to go back to his house all just to not put out.”
“Oh, Alex,” Olivia whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
“I was so scared ,” she admits. “He told me that maybe I wasn’t as mature as he thought, that maybe he should go for someone else, and I got even more scared. I didn’t want him to leave me. So I… I let him. God, I fucking let him.”
“Alex, honey, whether you eventually gave in or not, that’s still rape,” Olivia says, and Alex can hear the wobble in her throat, hear the tears threatening to spill. “It’s not your fault, baby. It wasn’t your fault.”
“It hurt so bad. I didn’t say a word, I just took my dress off and let him…” Alex trails off. “I was bleeding. But when he was done, he told me how much he loved me, how pretty and sweet I was. How he knew he was right about me. He dropped me off at home and I was so confused, I just… I just went to bed and didn’t speak about it to anyone.”
“How many times did this happen, Alex?” Olivia asks, and Alex lets a dry chuckle escape.
“More than it should have,” Alex admits. “It went on for almost a year. He’d come over to tutor me, and I’d spend the entire time not knowing if it was butterflies in my stomach or if I was going to be sick. If we were alone, he’d kiss me, see how far he could get, sticking his hand up my skirt or putting mine down his pants. Every few weeks, we’d get dinner, and back at his apartment I’d lie back and let him have what he wanted. I have no fucking clue how he felt so bold to do that. My parents were lawyers, my uncle was a judge, hell, Liz was basically my aunt and she was the fucking ADA for sex crimes at the time.”
“Did he get caught?” Olivia asks, and Alex lets out a noise somewhere between annoyance and regret.
“Not at the time, no,” Alex sighs. “Apparently, he had a girlfriend the entire time this was happening. She got pregnant a few months before I turned fifteen, and he just… disappeared. He called my parents and told them he couldn’t tutor me anymore, and he never came back. I fucking lost it. I don’t know how my parents didn’t notice something was up, I don’t think I left my room for days. I barely ate. Even though I knew by then that something was off, I felt like… I don’t know. Like something in me had died, having him taken away from me like that.”
“I know what you mean,” Olivia says, and Alex knows that it’s more than a platitude. That she’d been hurt, scared, angry, and alone in the same way, just over a year older than Alex had been. “Abuse is… it’s complicated. It messes with our brains, and they know that. They use it against you. It doesn’t… it doesn’t mean anything about you to miss them when they’re gone.”
Alex knows Olivia isn’t just talking about her now. She peels her face away from Olivia’s chest, instantly missing the soothing rhythm of Olivia’s heartbeat against her skin. “I’m sorry if that brings up memories for you,” she apologizes, and Olivia’s eyebrows furrow as if she has no clue why Alex would even consider apologizing.
“Alex…” she nearly croaks. Alex can see the tears on her waterline, presses a kiss to her girlfriend’s shoulder in acknowledgment. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m so sorry you’ve been carrying this for so long. I wish I could have helped you earlier, been there for you. Did you ever tell anyone? A therapist?”
A sardonic laugh bubbles up from her throat before she has the chance to stop it. “Never a therapist. When I went, on and off, there was always something more pressing to talk about, or to avoid. You’re only the second person who ever found out.”
“Second?” Olivia questions, and the shame flushes Alex’s cheeks again at the memory.
“He… I think it was my second year with SVU when he got into a car wreck. Died on the scene. A drunk driver slammed into him going 30 over. He was alone in the car, thank God for that. His daughter would have been a teenager by then. I just hope to God he never laid a finger on her,” Alex explains, shuddering at the thought of another little girl going through that, a girl who had even more reason to trust him than Alex had. Liv returns to the abstract patterns she’s been drawing on her back, keeping Alex in the moment instead of drawn into the past.
“I have no idea where Liz heard, but she mentioned it offhand during some one-on-one meeting. I had a full blown panic attack in her office– I couldn’t even excuse myself to the bathroom before it happened, I just started hyperventilating until I nearly passed out on her desk. She shut the blinds and locked the door and stayed with me until I stopped freaking out, but at that point, I couldn’t just… leave without explaining what on Earth had just happened.”
Alex gulps at the memory. Growing up, Liz had been the only adult who gave a shit about her – she’d been close with both of her parents since law school, and Alex couldn’t remember many childhood events where she wasn’t around. While her parents left her to be raised by nannies and tutors, Liz always made an effort to speak with Alex like she was an adult whenever she was in the house. She’d always made Alex feel strong, smart, supported.
“She was really good about it. God, I was so delirious from hyperventilating I’m pretty sure I just blurted out ‘he raped me’ and started crying again. I don’t have a clue how long I sat there just freaking out while she tried to get a word out of me. Eventually, one of us finally remembered I had a Xanax prescription and it brought me back to Earth,” Alex continues.
“It was probably Liz, in all honesty,” Olivia murmurs, and Alex huffs in amusement.
“Probably,” Alex agrees. “Anyway, once I could breathe again, she asked me what I meant. She thought I meant recently, but when I told her it was when I was a kid, I swear I’ve never seen her… feel that much. Expressing even one emotion, aside from mildly pissed, is usually a big ask for her. In my entire life, I’d never seen her cry, but she did. She felt so horrible for never noticing when I was young, since let’s be honest, I think she interacted with me more than my parents.”
“She was really important to you,” Olivia agrees. “As much as I’m sure she hated me for how much I asked of your office, she’s a good woman. I’m glad you have her.”
“After all that, she told me if she could, she’d raise him from the dead and kill him again. Painfully, this time,” Alex says, and Olivia smiles a little. “She said instant death was kinder than he deserved.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” Olivia says, and Alex nods.
“She sent me home after that. Probably best not to send me into court off a double dose of Xanax and shaking from adrenaline,” Alex admits. “We never talked about it again. Not explicitly, at least. But when a bad case happened, like with Sam Cavanaugh, she’d check in. Even after that one, where she nearly fired me on the spot. The suspension seemed more like pulling me off the ledge than a punishment, as much as I disagreed at the time.”
Alex closes her eyes, relaxing into Olivia a bit more, allowing herself to just live in the abstract tracings of Olivia’s fingernails and the even rise and fall of her chest. She never thought she’d feel safe enough to tell someone on purpose . She never thought someone would love her enough for it to matter.
As if she were a mind reader, Olivia speaks up. “I love you,” she reminds Alex, who hums contentedly. “I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud to be the person who gets to love you, who gets to know how brave and smart and beautiful you are for the rest of our lives.”
Alex peeks an eye open. “Rest of our lives?” She teases, and Olivia flushes. “Are you trying to hint at something?”
Alex watches Olivia’s brain scramble for words, and she laughs softly and tucks her head back into the crook of Olivia’s neck. “I love you too. Thank you for… all of this.”
“You never have to thank me for listening to you,” Olivia assures her, something she’s been assuring Alex of for well over a decade, and she’s sure will be a theme for decades to come. “Can I ask what brought all of this up though?”
Alex shifts nervously, somehow more embarrassed to explain the reason behind her sudden confession than the confession itself. “Bad dream,” she responds curtly. “Last night, after you got called in.”
“Oh, baby,” Olivia soothes, and Alex relaxes back into her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. Did you get back to sleep?”
Alex shakes her head. She never gets back to sleep after nightmares – falling asleep in the first place is somewhat of a miracle, allowing slumber to take over after terror has wracked its way through her body would have to involve divine intervention.
“What time did you get up?” Olivia asks, concern in her voice. Alex’s insomnia has been a worrying point for Olivia since they met – ironic, given the brunette’s chaotic sleeping schedule, but Alex’s inability to turn her brain off had always had Olivia checking in, subtly encouraging her to rest at any opportunity.
“Around two, I think?” Alex is really guessing. Olivia had been called in around eleven, just as they were getting ready for bed, meaning Alex hadn’t found sleep until after midnight, attempting to adjust to the change in plans, never liking to fall asleep without being tangled in her lover’s arms.
“So you’ve been up for nearly twenty hours,” Olivia does the math. “And I guarantee you didn’t even sleep three hours last night.”
“I’m exhausted,” Alex admits. Her sudden confession, her explanation, the deep dive into the secret she thought she’d hold to her chest until she died, has taken a lot out of her. “But I’m too wired to sleep. I think I’d just end up tossing and turning until I gave up.”
Olivia hums against her, and Alex can tell that her girlfriend is scheming for a way to get the blonde to rest. “Would a hot shower help?” Alex sighs, content with the idea, but from the way Olivia stiffens underneath her, she can tell she’s been misunderstood. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean– I don’t have to be there, I’m not trying to–”
Alex pulls herself from her comfy position to look at Olivia, panic in her eyes. “Relax, Liv,” she interrupts, and Olivia’s jaw snaps shut. “When have I ever had a problem with showering together before? I don’t… I don’t want you to see me as different. As fragile . You’ve already figured out what is and isn’t okay, long before you knew the reasons behind any of it. Can we just… be normal?”
“I’m sorry,” Olivia responds. “I just… sorry. I want to take care of you. Does a shower sound good?”
Alex smiles softly. “It sounds excellent, Captain .”
Alex knows what that word does to Olivia when it comes from her lips. And while she’s not trying to elicit anything more than the rosy colour blooming up her girlfriend’s face and neck – not tonight, not after the monumental confession she’s just given, not while he is still on her mind – it’s nice to see the brunette flush and roll her eyes. Like they’re a normal couple. Like neither of them are haunted by men of the past, ghosts that will follow behind them for years to come.
Olivia is gentle with Alex as they climb into the shower. She kisses Alex as she helps the blonde peel off her clothing, gently runs her fingers over the raised bullet scar before placing a soft kiss to it, too. Alex relaxes into the brunette’s arms as she washes her hair, allows the warm water to wash over them, to wash away the last remnants of the dirty feeling that has clung to her skin since she woke up gasping and clawing at the sheets all those hours ago.
They exchange few words in the shower, allowing touch to do most of the healing they need for tonight. However, when they’ve climbed into bed, Alex’s limbs relaxed, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion, her heart beating in rhythm with Olivia’s pressed to her back, Olivia whispers gentle words to her as the last bits of stress escape with her soft breaths. I’m so proud of you. You’re safe with me. I love you. I love you. I love you.
As darkness claims her, Alex feels well and truly safe for the first time in years. The last words echoing in her mind before she slips under the veil of sleep are in response to Olivia. I love you. I love you. I love you.