Another Troy
By Fewthistle

Author's Note: Work-in-progress. This is a first time tale, with no relation to any other SVU story I have penned. Consider this to be a Loss-free universe. Who in the hell would be so stupid as to let Alex leave?

”.....What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this,
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have done, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn?”

from “No Second Troy ”
W.B. Yeats

I.

New York City in March. “How could you not love it,” thought Detective Olivia Benson as she made her way carefully through the blackened mounds of snow piled up along the sidewalk, the wind leaving its handprint on both her cheeks as a frigid rush of air roared through the city, bringing in its wake yet another Nor'easter to pummel an already battered foe. The winter had been particularly harsh, as temperatures consistently dropped into the negative numbers, and the snow and sleet had paralyzed even intrepid New Yorkers more times than they cared to count.

The clouds hung low, like an endless tarp of thick, dirty gray wool across the city skyline. The top halves of skyscrapers disappeared into the enveloping fabric, leaving beneath imperfect visions of architectural wonder, incomplete and faintly grotesque, headless trunks of statuary strewn about the urban desert. The wind sent a mournful, discordant dirge along the streets and alleyways of the metropolis, a dirge solemnly accompanied by the trumpeting blare of horns, and the chaotic, rhythmic beat of the city.

Turning on to Centre Street and bracing herself against the direct onslaught of the wind, Benson quickened her pace, ducking her head against the sharp biting air. Small pellets of ice began to streak down from the sky, the sharp gusts blowing them almost horizontally towards their hapless victims, hitting hard concrete and tender skin with the same indiscriminant force. With even side of the road parking and piles of snow left in the wake of the plows, she had had to park several blocks away from the courthouse.

Olivia knew that she was already too late to see the cross examination of the final witness in the Hodges trial, but she was hoping to make it in time for closing arguments. She and her partner Elliot Stabler had worked for weeks to come up with enough evidence on Lester Hodges to get him convicted of selling the services of the mostly immigrant wait staff he utilized in his “Gentlemen's Club” to any willing bidder.

After a series of delays and motions, the trial had finally commenced two weeks ago, just as she and Elliot had been handed a rape/homicide. The case had been complex and amazingly convoluted, taking the better part of two weeks to solve. Aside from her testimony the first day of the Hodges trial, Olivia hadn't been able to see any of the proceedings. Nor had she gotten more than a passing glimpse of ADA Alexandra Cabot, a matter of equally pressing concern to the dark haired detective.

Olivia Benson had admitted to herself some time ago that she had more than a passing interest in Alex Cabot. The interest had come into being quite innocently, born of an honest admiration for the attorney's intellect, for her skills, and her passion for her work. How she had gone from focusing on Alex's quick mind and ended up daydreaming about the soft curve of her lips, Olivia didn't know.

What had begun as a feeling of kinship, of camaraderie had subtly altered over the course of the past year. Altered into what exactly, Olivia was somewhat loathe to name, as if the naming of it made it more real. Or less doomed. Because the one thing that she did know with certainty was that regardless of what it was, or whether or not she ever gave it its rightful name, it really didn't matter. In Alex's eyes she was a friend. Period. No less, and most definitely no more.

The knowledge of that one essential fact did not, however, slow her pace as Olivia trudged determinedly toward the courthouse. “Friends” was ok. In fact, “friends” was really quite something. With that mantra firmly in mind, Olivia started up the steps of the courthouse. On the forth step, she glanced up, her body jerking to a halt at the sight that met her eyes.

Apparently she was later than she had thought, for at the top of the stairs, standing surrounded by reporters, was Alexandra Cabot, patiently answering questions, a pleasantly blank look masking her true feelings. Even from the bottom of the steps Olivia could tell that Alex had won. Something in her posture, in the ever so slightly arrogant tilt of her head, belied the neutral expression on her face, betraying the jubilant emotions that Alex had confided filled her every time she managed to rid the streets of one more miscreant.

Crossing her arms, Olivia stood and watched, a fond, slightly wistful smile just gracing the corners of her full lips. Despite the cold, despite the gloom, despite the wind, and the slivers of frozen sky falling all around them, Alex looked unperturbed, completely controlled, self-contained.

Watching her, Olivia couldn't help but glance up at the figure that stood atop the building, a scale in one hand, and a shining sword of justice in the other. Glancing back down at the ADA , the comparison was obvious. Alex as Lady Justice. Not too far a stretch, Benson reflected. Both fair, both swift and determined, and both blind, Olivia thought sadly, a rueful expression crossing her face just as Alex glanced down, their eyes meeting for a moment before another question caused Alex to look away. But not before she saw the look of disappointment that shadowed Olivia Benson's lovely face.

II.

Alexandra Cabot knew the moment that she had won her case. She could see it in the face of the defense attorney, in the eyes of the jurors . She felt that rush of exhilaration that came with the knowledge that she had done her job, that one more walking waste of air would be off the streets, at least for a few years. Glancing back to the gallery, she scanned the spectators for one particular face, hoping against hope to see a pair of dark, flashing eyes.

“You knew she wasn't here,” Alex whispered to herself . There had been no tell-tale tingle up her spine, no quick hitch in her breathing that generally signified the presence of Olivia Benson within a twenty foot radius of Alex. She had been silently praying that Det. Benson would be able to make it to at least part of the trial, but realistically, she knew that both Benson and Stabler were tied up with a new case. Still, knowing that didn't make it any less disappointing.

“Ms. Cabot?” Judge Petrovsky's voice cut through Alex's Benson-induced fog.

“Sorry, Your Honor,” Alex responded hastily , “ The people are ready for closing arguments.”

“Very well. Mr. Mitchellson, shall we?” The defense counsel, whispering fervently to his client, rose at the judge's words.

“ Your Honor. The defense would like to request a recess at this time.”

”For what purpose, Counselor?”

“A conversation with the Prosecution, Your Honor,” Mitchellson answered slowly, the bitterness of defeat exhaled with his breath.

“Both counsel approach. Ms. Cabot?” Petrovsky queried, eyebrows raised as she glanced over at the Prosecutor.

“The People would be happy to have a conversation with counsel, Your Honor. However, at this late stage, and given the current state of these proceedings, I don't think that a deal will be forthcoming ,” Alex couldn't quite keep the glint of victory out of her eyes, though her voice remained professional and calm.

“So, Mr. Mitchellson, it seems that the boat has sailed on this one. You should have taken the People's deal two weeks ago and saved the court and the taxpayers time and money. Step back and proceed with your closing, Counselors,” the judge ordered, her voice betraying a little her impatience with the Defense's last minute maneuverings.

It took the jury half an hour to return with their verdict. Guilty on all counts. A pimp in a thousand dollar suit is still a pimp.

Alex took her time packing up her papers in her briefcase. There was still no sign of Olivia and a little of the thrill of the win was dulled without her favorite detective to witness her victory . She had found that recently a lot of what she did was designed solely to impress the brown-eyed beauty. If it happened that justice was served in the process, well then, all the better. Still, it wasn't for accolades from Donnelly that Alex toiled so long and hard, but the look of pride and admiration directed her way from Olivia Benson's lovely face.

Walking out on to the front steps of the courthouse, Alex found herself at the center of a group of reporters. Since most of the questions were carried away from her on frigid blasts of air, Alex opted to simply give a summary of the case and its inevitable conclusion. Even with Olivia's absence, the feeling of triumph at having won her fifth case in a row was enough to leave the ADA with an internalized Cheshire grin. Turning her head to try and catch a little of the question from the Post reporter, the object of so many of Alex's mental meanderings suddenly appeared in her line of vision.

Standing at the bottom of the courthouse steps, Olivia had clearly paused mid-stride, her face turned up towards where Alex held court. Even from a distance, Alex could see that the wind had left a rosy stamp on Olivia's cheeks and lips, her dark beauty only enhanced with the subtle shading. As their eyes meet, Alex saw quite distinctly the look that slid across Olivia's features. Sadness, disappointment. Alex wished with every ounce of her being that she could eradicate those feelings from Olivia's life forever.

“ Not what she's looking for, Cabot. You're her friend, not her knight in shining armor ,” She mentally chided, forcing herself to break the visual connection with the SVU detective and turn back for another inane question.

After asking every self-evident question that they could come up with, the reporters moved on. The ADA and the SVU detective met midway on the steps, standing side by side with their backs turned to the harsh March winds that continued to pummel the city.

“Sorry about that. Clearly a slow news day,” Alex remarked dryly, a smile just beginning to curve the corners of her mouth.

Turning her head enough to get a clear view of Alex's aristocratic profile, Benson asked the question to which she already knew the answer.

“So, did you win?”

“Of course, Detective. Was there ever any doubt?” Alex responded, her voice mirroring the slightly smug grin that creased her face.

“Never, Counselor. I was hoping to get here in time to hear your closing argument, but by the time I got out of the squad, found a place to park, and braved the gale force winds, it was all over but the shouting,” Olivia answered, finding the sight of the self-satisfied grin on the attorney's face extremely appealing. A particularly vicious gust of wind brought the two women into even closer proximity, as they nearly huddled together on the steps for protection from the freezing air.

“Well, I wouldn't have been able to do it if it hadn't been for the exceptional police work. You and Elliot did all the hard stuff. I just sewed it together for the jury ,” the ADA smiled warmly at Olivia, her pleasure at having won second now to the pleasure of standing this close to Olivia Benson. For a moment, they simply stood smiling somewhat idiotically at one another, shoulders and hips pressed tight together as a barrier to the cold wind, faces mere inches apart.

“Um, Alex, I was wondering...,” Benson found her voice trailing off, captured by the sparkling eyes that were now locked with her own, the intensity of artic blue only enhanced by the color that the cold had brought to Alex's cheeks. Their breath mingled in the glacial air, and the simple ability to think or speak immediately left Olivia's brain.

“Wondering what, Detective?” Alex inveigled somewhat huskily, her eyes never leaving Olivia's. Was it her imagination, or was there something there, some spark, some mirror of her own longing?

“ Get a grip, Cabot. It's ten below. The only longing that Olivia Benson's undoubtedly feeling is to get off these damn steps and into someplace warm ,” Alex's brain supplied caustically.

“Um, a drink. To celebrate. Would you be interested in a drink?” Olivia finally managed to get out, her voice barely discernable as the wind wailed along the street.

“Oh. Any other time, I'd love to, Liv, but I'm scheduled to meet with Donnelly at four,” Alex answered, regret evident in her voice and expression, “Rain check?”

“Absolutely. Maybe later this week ,” Olivia nodded, trying not to show her disappointment. Looking pathetic was not on the top of her list of things to do in front of Cabot.

“Great. I'll call you,” Alex replied. Dammit, this was the first time that Olivia had asked her, just her, to have a drink with her, no boys along, no distractions, and she couldn't go.

“ Obviously, I have some karma I'm paying off ,” she thought morosely, her gaze raking Olivia's face for any tell-tale signs of unhappiness at being turned down. As far as Alex could see, there were none.

Olivia's expression remained neutral as she bade goodbye to Alex, a quick wave tossed back at her, as she began trudging toward where she had parked her car. It seemed only fitting, as she turned off of Centre Street that the wind had changed direction, walloping her anew as she slogged determinedly out of Alex's line of sight.

III.

Alex remained standing on the steps long after she had lost sight of Olivia Benson's hunched figure walking slowly down Centre Street . The giddy feelings that she had had leaving the courtroom were gone, blown to God knows where by the freezing gales. They had been replaced with a good dose of self-pity, which Alex was just beginning to wallow in, when her musings were interrupted by a very familiar voice.

“You know, pathetic, unrequited puppy-love really isn't a good look for you. It clashes so badly with all of that lovely arrogance you wear so well ,” Serena Southerlyn intoned, amusement clear in every syllable.

Turning slowly, Alex glowered at the distinctly teasing grin of her fellow ADA . Serena chuckled at the glare lasered her way as blue eyes met blue eyes.

“That look only works on slimy defendants and their equally slimy lawyers,” Serena laughed, completely unimpressed as ever with the famous Cabot stare.

“Don't you have somewhere to be, Southerlyn?” Alex asked crossly, irritated at being caught by her friend gazing longingly after Det. Benson.

Ignoring the question, Serena moved closer, slipping her arm through Alex's, and pulling her along with her as she descended the steps.

“Why don't you just ask her out? I mean, God, Alex, you can argue before the State Appeals Court, cross-examine some of the most heinous miscreants to walk the planet, even have a conversation with Branch without coming to blows, but you can't manage to ask Olivia Benson to have dinner with you? What is wrong with you, Cabot? Lost your nerve?” Serena asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

“This is not court, this is...different,” Alex muttered, “In court, I'm in control. I call the shots. I know the rules. With Olivia, I'm not in control, I don't call the shots, and I'll be damned if I know what the rules are.”

“This isn't about control or rules, Alex. She's a woman, not a legal precedent ,” Serena chuckled, glancing over fondly at her friend as they made their way down the narrow area of sidewalk not covered with brownish snow. “Just take a deep breath, close your eyes, and ask her. The worst that can happen is that she says no.”

“She says no. Then our entire working relationship is shot to hell, I can't do my job, I lose cases, Donnelly fires me, and I end up defending money-grubbing corporations for my uncle's law firm. No. It's much better if I just leave things the way they are ,” Alex answered emphatically, her voice rising just a little.

“God, you're pathetic,” Serena stated incredulously, amazed at the effect that Olivia Benson had on her normally cool, self-contained friend. “Just ask her, Alex.”

“It strikes me that taking dating advice from you is akin to taking stock advice from Martha Stewart,” Alex responded a trifle petulantly, “The only thing that you've taken to bed in the past ten months is a case book.”

“We aren't talking about me. I'm not the one who has a crush the size of Jack's ego on a certain SVU detective. Besides, do what I say, not what I do. I'm saving myself for the right woman,” Serena answered, her amusement at Alex's dilemma only marginally dimmed by her friend's snappish demeanor.

“Serena, virgins save themselves. If I recall correctly, that horse left the post a long time ago. Although, I've heard if you stay single long enough, you get to be a virgin again. The way you're going, you shouldn't have too long to wait. Admit it, you're just too chicken shit to get out there yourself, so don't lecture me on taking risks,” Alex replied acrimoniously, satisfied at the subtle shift in the conversation as Serena's expression became distinctly less entertained.

“You're really bitchy when you're frustrated, you know that, Cabot?” Serena said quietly, her tone more than a little hurt as she slipped her arm out from under Alex's.

The obvious change in her friend's voice brought Alex up short. Pulling Serena over to the edge of the plowed snow bank and out of the way of the rest of the poor fools trudging against the wind, Alex managed to look suitably contrite.

“Serena, I'm sorry. Really. That was out of line. You know I didn't mean it. Forgive me?” Alex pleaded softly, her smile winning as she caught up one of Serena's gloved hands in her own.

“Sure,” Serena replied, the half-smile that graced her lips not quite reaching her eyes.

“Hey. Come on. You're right, I was just being a bitch. Don't look like that,” Alex urged , feeling manifestly displeased with herself for hurting Serena's feelings. They had been friends for years now, since both had landed back in Manhattan after law school, and Alex hated the thought that she had upset the one person who had always, consistently been on her side. Even if it was to prod her into taking some action with Olivia.

“Serena.... please ?”

“ It's fine, Alex. I mean, you're right. I haven't been out with anyone in almost a year. But then, I have something of an excuse. I don't have someone who takes my breath away every time I see her. And you see her almost every day, Alex. Take a chance. It may not come again for a long time ,” Serena urged, her gaze intent as she willed her friend to be brave.

“Can we continue this conversation later? Dinner maybe? I'll come by your apartment, all right? I have to meet Liz at four, but I should be done by six or so. I could stop by that Greek place and pick up something?” Alex asked, still not feeling that the equilibrium of her friendship with Serena had been restored . For a long time Serena didn't reply, her gaze focused on a particularly filthy snow pile near their feet.

“Spanikopita. And salad with extra feta. And a big container of those olives I like. Oh, and bring some wine too,” Serena answered finally, looking up at Alex through long lashes. “And don't forget the baklava, Cabot, or you're not getting in the door.”

“Deal. Come on. Liz is a pain when I'm late ,” Alex smiled, starting to rejoin the steady stream of foot traffic on the sidewalk.

“I don't have to be back. Jack and Arthur are out this afternoon, so I'm going to run in Starbucks and get a vendi mocha. After putting up with you, I deserve some chocolate ,” Serena jabbed gently.

Laughing, Alex nodded, and quickly started back toward the office, tossing a smile back at Serena as she crossed the street on her pilgrimage to that Mecca of coffee lovers . While she wasn't looking forward to the rest of the conversation that she knew she faced later, Alex had to admit that she was feeling a little less pathetic than she had watching Olivia Benson disappear into the storm.

IV.

It would have been clear to a total stranger that Olivia Benson was not happy. To her partner Elliot Stabler, it was obvious that things had not gone as planned when Liv had rushed out a few hours earlier, intent on making it to court, on the premise of seeing the end of the Hodges trial. Elliot knew that actually it was to see a certain blonde ADA who was slowly but inexorably making his partner crazy, and vice versa.

Liv had it bad. Alex had it bad. He knew it, Munch knew it, hell, even Huang had noticed. How either Liv or Alex failed to see that the other one was just as attracted as she was, was beyond Elliot's ability to comprehend. And yet, when Cabot was here the two women strained every pretense to the extreme to avoid acknowledging their true feelings. Nuts, that's what it was.

Liv came into the squad room and dropped listlessly into her chair, not even bothering to take off her leather coat. Her cheeks were flushed, her nose looked red and raw, and there was a distinctively downward tilt to the corners of her mouth. Olivia Benson was a veritable picture of misery.

“What happened, court over?” Elliot asked casually. He knew that the worst thing to do with his partner is to appear in any way, shape, or form to be sympathetic. Liv hated feeling like she was the object of anyone's pity.

“Yeah. Cabot won. Guilty on all counts ,” Olivia responded, a lackluster attempt at smile just touching her lips.

“So, that's good, right?” Elliot commented, nodding his head in approval. “Did you see Cabot?”

“Just for a few minutes. She was holding court with the press on the front steps. We talked for a little while, but she had a meeting with Donnelly, so she couldn't stay ,” Liv answered, her tone nonchalant, her face less so.

“Oh, thought that you were going to take her for a congratulatory drink ,” he replied, his forehead furrowed in concentration as he pretended to read the file in his hand. Elliot knew that asking this was pushing the envelope, but he couldn't resist. Hopefully he'd get a few answers out of Liv before she clamed up completely.

“Like I said, she had a meeting with Donnelly at four. Who knows how long it will last. We did a rain check for later in the week,” Olivia replied, her eyes glancing suspiciously in her partner's direction, not quite buying the casual questions and the apparent engrossment in whatever file he was reading.

“Yeah? Good. You two should spend some time together. Girls' night, bonding kinda stuff,” he said approvingly, not looking up from the completely random file he had grabbed from the pile on his desk. Eye contact in situations like this one was a bad idea. A smart mongoose knows that you never look the cobra in the eye.

Silence. Finally, Olivia uttered what can only be described as a non-committal grunt.

Looking up from the file, Elliot could see that his two minutes were up. Liv had her wary face on, eyes hooded speculatively, lips pursed a bit in concentration. There would be no more information sharing about Cabot today, he was sure.

Smiling imperturbably, Elliot got up from his desk and walked casually over to the coffee machine. Pouring the dregs of the pot into his mug, he watched as Liv stared morosely off into space. Something was going to have to give here and soon. It hurt him to see his partner so unhappy, but he was damned if he knew what to do about it. Sitting around with his thumb up his ass was not Elliot's way, especially when someone he cared about was obviously miserable. Still, Stabler knew that the more he pushed, the more stubborn Liv would get.

It was time for a plan. What kind of plan remained to be seen, but one way or another, Olivia Benson and Alex Cabot were going to acknowledge their feelings, even if Elliot had to lock them in a holding cell until they admitted that they couldn't live without each other. Grinning to himself, Elliot walked back to his desk, not even glancing in Liv's direction. The time for tough love had arrived.

V.

It was seven thirty by the time Alex reached Serena's apartment. Standing in front of her door, she managed after a good bit of juggling to ring the bell, a bottle of wine under each arm and several bags of scrumptious smelling take out in each hand. After a minute or so the door opened as wide as the safety chain would allow and Alex could see one crystal blue eye peering out at her.

“Show me the baklava,” the eye demanded.

“Serena, my hands are full here. Open the door ,” Alex complained good-naturedly.

“The baklava. Show it to me,” the eye responded implacably.

“It's in one of these bags, I swear,” Alex promised, shifting to tighten her grip on one of the wine bottles.

“I've heard that one before,” the eye said pitilessly , “ Remember, bagels, but no cream cheese, or the whole pizza and fried chicken and movie night with no chicken, no pizza, and no movie?”

“Fine, fine. You don't believe me, I can just take all of this incredible food, and this lovely Australian shiraz and go home with it,” Alex taunted, aware that the plastic bags that held the take out were slowly but surely cutting off the circulation in the fingers of her left hand.

The eye narrowed speculatively, glaring at her pointedly for some time before disappearing suddenly behind the closed door. It reappeared a moment later, joined by the rest of Serena's body as she flung the door open.

“Where the hell have you been?” she demanded, “ It's 7:30 , Cabot. I'm starving. And that baklava better be in there somewhere or I'm calling Trevor Langdon and telling him that you'll be waiting for him, naked, on Petrovsky's bench, at midnight .”

“Branch stopped by Liz's office while I was there. An hour long meeting turned into a two hour meeting while they pontificated about every legal precedent since Gibbons,” Alex explained, grimacing slightly as she set the bags of take out on the coffee table. She gingerly flexed the fingers of her left hand, hoping that the circulation returned quickly. “Another minute and I would have lost these fingers, you know.”

“Penance, Alex, penance. Good for the soul, remember ,” Serena smiled beatifically at her friend, with only the wicked gleam in her blue eyes giving away the satisfaction she felt at a little retribution for this afternoon's conversation.

Alex merely chuckled, glad to see the Serena was back to her old self. It had bothered her tremendously that she had lashed out at her closest friend like that. Alex Cabot was not someone who lost control, and yet, it seemed that recently it was happening more and more.

“ Ever since Olivia Benson came into your life ,” her mind registered matter-of-factly.

“Ah-ha!” Serena exclaimed triumphantly, pulling a large container full of flaky baklava from one of the bags, and turning to beam happily at Alex.

“Told you so ,” Alex replied, “Did you really think that I would dare to show up here without the good stuff?”

“Not if you knew what was good for you ,” the other blonde answered, opening the lid and taking a large bite out of one of the triangular treats. “Ummm. Oh, God, that's amazing. Well, don't just stand there. Open the wine.”

Alex stood and watched her friend's facial expression as she finished off the piece of Greek delicacy.

“It really has been a long time since you had sex, hasn't it, Southerlyn?” Alex snorted, clearly amused at Serena's reaction to the food.

“Wine, Cabot. I need a couple of glasses of wine before I am willing to even discuss sex with you. In particular, we will be discussing you and sex, not me and sex. To be precise, you and Olivia Benson and sex ,” Serena informed her, pulling two extremely large goblets from the kitchen cupboard.

“Maybe I should have brought three bottles,” Alex muttered, digging into the kitchen drawer for the corkscrew. “Just the mention of me and Olivia and sex is enough to cause immense uneasiness. I hope that you're prepared to explain to Liz that I am not at work tomorrow because I had an anxiety attack brought on by extreme emotional distress.”

“Yeah, that should look good, Alex. I can see the headline now. Sex Crimes ADA has fainting spell at mention of orgasm ,” Serena leaned across the counter and took the corkscrew from Alex's hand and deftly opened one of the bottles. Pouring a generous amount into each glass, she returned to the living room and the food, just as deftly opening one of the containers of salad and digging in.

“Food first, then conversation. I told you I was starving,” Serena explained, registering the look of amusement on Alex's face as she watched Serena open another of the Styrofoam boxes and pick up a wedge of Spanikopita.

“So I see ,” Alex chuckled, settling down on the couch next to her friend and picking up one of the boxes herself. “Considering what's waiting for me when you finish, eat slowly, Serena, eat slowly.”

Half an hour later the two women lay back contentedly against the overstuffed couch cushions. All but one of the take out boxes were empty, and in that one, only a few lonely olives languished.

“God, we're pigs ,” Alex sighed, feeling decidedly full and surprisingly content after their feast. Well, their feast and one of the bottles of wine.

“True, but happy pigs ,” Serena agreed, stretching her legs out in front of her in an attempt to loosen the waistband of her jeans. “And speaking of pigs, just how long are you going to wallow in the self-pity that has become your relationship with Olivia Benson?”

“Speaking of? What the hell do pigs have to do with me?” Alex inquired, swiveling her head to stare at Serena.

“Pigs wallow. You wallow. Try to follow along here, Alex. When are you going to get over yourself, tell the woman that you're head over heels in love with her, and take her to bed?” Serena asked calmly, her voice bearing an odd resemblance to that of a kindergarten teacher to a particularly stubborn child.

“Why do you act like that is the easiest, most inevitable thing in the world? God, Serena, to begin with, there's the fact that I have never been with another woman, never even kissed another woman. Don't you think that that is a major factor in this?” Alex exclaimed , her frustration and anxiety clear in her face and voice.

Serena didn't answer immediately. Alex turned to study her friend's profile as Serena stared contemplatively into space. Suddenly Serena turned and, reaching out, slipped her hand behind Alex's head and pulled her forward. Their lips met gently as a sound of surprise issued from Alex's throat. Alex was amazed. Serena's lips were softer than she could have imagined and tasted of walnuts, syrup, and wine. She had just begun to relax into the kiss when it ended as suddenly as it had begun.

Opening her eyes, Alex was met not with another pair of blue eyes, but air. Serena had resumed her position leaning back against the cushion, and regarded Alex with a deeply self-satisfied expression.

“You kissed me,” Alex stated, her face showing the growing shock as what had just happened became clearer.

“Um-hmm,” Serena agreed , “ Problem solved.”

“Problem?” Alex asked, still not quite up to speed on Serena's thought process.

“You said that one of the main issues with you not asking Olivia out was that you had never even kissed another woman. Well, now you have. I'm afraid that, despite my self-imposed abstinence, you're going to have to handle the whole “sex” with another woman thing on your own. You, me, sex.....way too weird ,” Serena replied matter-of-factly.

“You have completely lost your mind, haven't you, Southerlyn?” Alex was still processing the fact that her best friend had just kissed her. Then there was the fact that she had enjoyed it. That was something that she was not going to think about. Now or ever. Serena was right. Way too weird.

“Not at all. In fact, I think that it served as a wonderful incentive for you to get off your ass and ask Olivia out. If you enjoyed kissing me, and don't even try to deny it, we both know you did. But, take that feeling and quadruple it, and you might begin to imagine what it would be like kissing a woman you are actually attracted to, a woman you're in love with. In short, what it might be like to actually kiss Olivia Benson,” Serena responded knowingly, her eyes surprisingly kind as she assessed Alex's reaction to her words.

As the truth of what Serena was saying began to sink in, Alex was left with decidedly mixed feelings. Well, actually with just two feelings. Terror and hope. And right now, it was anyone's guess which one would win out.

“I definitely should have brought three bottles of wine,” she said softly, reaching out to pick up the second bottle which was still three quarters full. “The rest of this one is mine.”

“Hey, no fair. Why do you get it all to yourself?” Serena complained, turning her head to regard Alex accusingly.

“Penance, Serena, penance. Good for the soul, remember?” Alex answered, emptying the rest of her glass.

VI.

Penance indeed. The next day Elliot Stabler stood in the squad room of the Special Victims Unit and wondered what he and Munch and Fin had done to get stuck in the middle of another epic battle between Benson and their ADA .

“Alex, I can't believe that you said that! What is this, blame the victim now?” Olivia fairly shouted, dark eyes flashing dangerously.

“I'm not blaming anyone, Detective. I am simply stating for you, in as simple terms as possible, that unless you come up with something far more compelling than this, there is no way any jurist in the state will issue a warrant for Bellini's house, garage, or car,” Alex answered icily, her own eyes narrowed to slits of sapphire.

The two women stood well within each other's personal space. Elliot had noted in the past that the more heated the discussion, the less air you could see between them. There was no consciousness on either of their parts that anyone else existed.

Munch had once remarked that, during one of Alex and Liv's “discussions”, he could stand on his desk completely naked, singing “ La Marseillaise ” and neither woman would notice. Fin had grumbled for days about that particular mental picture, but even he had agreed that there was definitely something going on between their fellow detective and their lovely ADA .

“I'm glad that I have on rubber soled shoes,” Elliot heard Munch murmur close behind him , “ Try not to touch anything metal. Pens, staplers. Could be dangerous.”

“What the hell are you talkin' about?” Fin asked from his perch on the edge of Munch's desk, a look of tolerant confusion on his face.

“Electrical current. Can't you see it? Hook some cables to those two and we could run a few small appliances ,” Munch answered in a relatively normal speaking voice.

Elliot glanced quickly back at Benson and Cabot to see if the comment had registered, but they were both oblivious as they argued about victims and warrants, and the inequities of the law. Elliot was fairly certain that they had somehow managed to move a few centimeters closer while he had been listening to Munch.

“Like it or not, Detective, that's the way the law is, and unless you're planning on running for the State Legislature, I don't see that you have much chance of changing it,” Alex pronounced sharply, eyes gleaming blue, breath a trifle short.

“I don't have enough of a stick up my ass to be in the Legislature or the courtroom, it seems,” Olivia responded hotly, leaning forward slightly so that her face and Alex's were mere inches apart.

The three men watching the scene unfold held their collective breath, wondering if the time had finally come when all of that pent up sexual tension exploded. It was not to be however, as the calming voice of Captain Cragen interrupted the heated proceedings.

“Ladies, we're all on the same side here. Benson, why don't you cool down and you and Stabler go and see what else you can come up with on Bellini so that Alex can get us a warrant, all right?” Cragen stated calmly, not waiting for a response before turning toward his office. Orders were orders after all.

“Sure, Cap',” Elliot quickly interjected , “ Come on Liv, let's take another run at his brother-in-law and see what we can get out of him.”

Olivia threw one last, smoldering glance in Alex's direction before grabbing her jacket and storming out of the squad room, Elliot right on her heels. ADA Cabot for her part gathered up her coat and briefcase with quiet dignity and departed the squad as well, never even looking at the remaining detectives.

“Damn. I thought they might finally reach boiling point. I wonder, what is the combustible temperature for women on the edge?” Munch mused, his gaze fixed on the door where the parties in question had so recently exited.

“All them ex-wives and you still never figured that one out, did ya, Munch?” Fin joked.

“Why do you think I ended up with so many ex-wives?”

Out on the street Elliot had to jog to catch up with Olivia. The madder she was, the faster she walked. He finally caught up with her at the car, where she was about to slide into the driver's seat.

“No way, Liv. Let me drive. I have a wife and kids, remember? I'd like to get there in one piece, if you don't mind ,” Elliot urged her, standing with his hand on the driver's door to prevent her from shutting it.

“Fine. Drive ,” Benson answered shortly, sliding across the sedan seats to the passenger side.

“Liv ,” Elliot began, only to be cut off immediately by a death glare from his partner.

“Don't. I don't want to discuss it. Don't mention her name. I mean it, El. Just let it go ,” Olivia intoned, her voice flat and hard.

The rest of the drive to the suspect's brother-in-law's hardware store was spent in silence. Elliot kept a surreptitious eye on Liv. Every line in her body was tense, and the little muscle in her jaw jumped occasionally. You had to care a great deal about someone to stay that angry with them. All in all, Elliot mused, maybe this wasn't going to be as hard as he had thought. What he needed to push Liv and Alex together was just the right ammunition. He just had to figure out what that was.

VII.

Elliot was right about one thing. Olivia Benson was not happy. Later that evening, after spending the afternoon pursuing dead end lead after dead end lead, she flopped down on the cushions of her couch, and threw one arm over her eyes. She was so filled with self-loathing that if it had a liquid form, it would have been oozing out of every available opening.

“God, why am I so stupid?” She berated herself for the umpteenth time since leaving the squad room so unceremoniously. “I'm miserable when I don't get to see her, and when I do finally get to see her, I spend ninety percent of the time fighting with her. What was I thinking asking her for a drink?”

Elliot had been true to his word and not mentioned Alex's name the rest of the day, but it didn't matter. It was as if the blonde ADA was there in the car with them, a shadowy, chilly presence hovering impatiently in the back seat. Throughout the day, Olivia had obsessed about what had happened with Alex, replaying the conversation over and over in her mind. It seemed almost impossible to believe that just yesterday she had stood on the courthouse steps with Alex and felt, something, some connection, some warmth amid the freezing gale.

Now, lying on her sofa and staring blankly at the ceiling above, Liv felt the overwhelming weight of self-pity settle onto her chest, making each breath harder than the first. It was several minutes before she realized that a great deal of her breathing problem came from the tears that flowed freely over sculpted cheekbones, into the fine hair at her temples, and onto the dark fabric of the throw pillow under her head.

“It's never going to happen. Alex is never going to see me as anything more than a colleague. An opinionated, stubborn, infuriating detective who works for her. Nothing more. I don't even know why I ever thought that it might,” Liv whispered softly to the empty room, not even raising her hand to staunch the flow of tears.

Pushing herself off the couch, Liv moved sluggishly toward the kitchen, opening the freezer and pulling out a half-empty bottle of Grey Goose. Pouring a good two fingers into a glass, she tossed back the liquid fire, feeling the warmth as the frozen liquor slid easily down her throat. Pouring another glass, Olivia returned to the couch with the bottle, the deep cold of the glass matching the temperature in her heart. The sound of the wind picking up outside of her windows mirrored the tempest in Olivia's mind.

In another apartment, in another part of the ice covered metropolis, another woman lay on a similar couch, this one belonging to her ever patient best friend, and expressed similar sentiments.

“Dammit! What is wrong with me?” Alex bemoaned, her face a study in dejection, one arm draped over the edge of the couch, barely clutching a half-full wine glass whose contents tilted precariously toward the cream and red shaded Oriental area rug.

“How much time do you have?” Serena answered bluntly, standing in the doorway to the kitchen regarding her morose friend with little sympathy. “And you'd better not spill that wine on my rug, Alex, or you're dipping into the old trust fund to buy me another one.”

“Would just a trace of empathy be too much to ask?” Alex asked peevishly, “I mean, I am suffering here.”

“Yes, it would be too much to ask,” Serena stated undiplomatically, “Every single ounce of this is your own fault, Alexandra Cabot, so do not expect me to rub your head and say “there, there”. I mean, you're moping and pathetic when you don't see her, and then the minute you do see her, instead of channeling all of that pent up tension into something positive, like a real live date with the woman, you pick a fight with her about some low-life perp and the lack of equality in the fourth amendment. Then, to top it all off, you show up here and expect me to feel sorry for you. Not going to happen, my friend.”

“Have I mentioned that I don't like you very much?” Alex whined, her lips slipping into a fair imitation of a pout.

“Good. Then get your ass off my couch, go over to her apartment, and apologize for being self-righteous, arrogant, sanctimonious, pig-headed... ,” Serena's litany of adjectives was abruptly cut off by an exclamation from the emotionally wounded one on the couch.

“Hey! You know, comparisons between me and pigs are coming up way too often here,” she complained sharply.

“Go. Talk to her. Tell her you're sorry for picking a fight over something so stupid. Take her flowers. DO something besides sprawl on my couch and whine,” the owner of the couch demanded , “ Whiny is also not a good look for you, and it irritates the hell out of me. I have nephews who are five and eight years old who don't whine as much as you. Not pretty Al, not pretty at all.”

Crossing the room to perch on the edge of the arm, Serena dropped her arm lightly over Alex's shoulders. Bending sideways a bit, she laid her head on the top of Alex's head, blonde hair falling over blonde hair. For a moment the two friends simply sat, until with a sigh, Serena turned her head and gently placed a kiss along Alex's hairline.

“I know I sound horrible, and bitchy, but I'm saying it for your own good, Alex, because I love you dearly. This has got to come to some resolution, and soon. As I see it, you can either tell Olivia how you feel about her, and depending on her reaction, go from there. Or you can stop feeling what you're feeling and move on. And honestly, Alex, it has not been my experience that you can just stop loving someone, simply because you want to. So I think that you're just going to have to be brave, tilt that Cabot chin up high, and take the plunge. Right?” Serena said softly, absently rubbing her cheek against Alex's hair.

“Right ,” Alex answered somewhat resolutely, the fear still evident in her voice despite her efforts to push down the rising wave of terror that swelled inside her. “Tomorrow, all right? I'll talk to her tomorrow. I'll see if she'll meet me for that drink she promised, and I'll just lay my cards on the table. If she accepts, well, then.... ,” her voice trailed off as the possibilities of what came next brought on a fresh wave of panic.

“It's not a plea bargain, Alex. There's no punishment involved ,” Serena reminded her.

“There will be if she says no,” Alex replied tonelessly, tilting her head back to meet Serena's eyes. The fear and pain that Serena saw in Alex's clouded blue orbs caused her to tighten her grip on her friend's shoulders. Outside the apartment, a new storm barreled its way down the city streets, leaving heaven only knew what in its wake.

VIII.

“The best laid plans ,” thought Alex, as she gazed at Olivia Benson's empty desk.

After finishing off the rest of the bottle of wine and part of another, Alex had ended up falling asleep, or as Serena so kindly put it, passing out, on the couch. She had awoken at 6 am in Serena's bed. She was still a bit fuzzy on how she had gotten there, but considering that it was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the couch, Alex wasn't about to complain. She had a vague memory of waking in the darkened living room and making her way cautiously to the bathroom, throwing up, stumbling into Serena's bedroom, undressing, and then climbing into bed.

The memory of Serena warning her, in what seemed to Alex to be a very unsympathetic and decidedly unkind tone, that she better not take all the covers, should keep her cold feet on her own side of the bed, and not, repeat, not throw up again, was much clearer. To add further injury to injury, Alex had found herself rudely pulled from slumber, with a splitting headache, by the sound of her friend singing along, quite loudly, to Cher 's “ Song for the Lonely”, an event that was burned into her poor, throbbing brain.

Now, dressed in one of Serena's suits, and reminded several times over coffee this morning of her pledge to talk to Olivia, Alex had made her way over to the 1-6, only to find that the object of her quest was nowhere to be found.

“Hey, Counselor, what's up?” Munch's voice broke into her reverie.

“John, how are you?” Alex inquired, “I don't suppose that you could tell me where Detective Benson is this morning?”

“She and Stabler went out to see what they could round up as far as info on Bellini's girlfriend ,” Munch answered, glancing speculatively at Alex. She was dressed, not in her usual navy or gray, but in a wool and silk suit the color of wheat. Nice but not her usual style. “New suit, Counselor?”

Alex had a definite deer in the headlights look as she glanced down at her outfit, an expression that struck Munch as particularly suspicious.

“Uh, no, well, yes, I mean, it's new for me, but...” Alex hedged, reaching up to touch her hair self-consciously, not sure why the question had thrown her off so, but determined to recover. “So, when do you think that Olivia and Elliot will be back?”

“Anybody's guess. Depends on how hard the girlfriend is trying not to be found,” Munch answered, intrigued now as to the source of Cabot's discomfort.

“Oh. Could you give her a message for me?” Alex asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant tone. “Could you have her call me when she has a free moment? Nothing important. Just a friendly call.”

“You got it ,” Munch replied, his intrigue level now quite high.

New clothes, stopping by just to chat, the obvious nervousness, the clearly disappointed look at not finding Olivia here. Maybe the time had finally arrived when one of their two hotties was finally going to make a move. Munch tried to remember which month he had in the pool. They had started the damn thing so long ago, it was difficult to keep track. Hell, even if he didn't win, he'd be happy to see something happen. Unresolved sexual tension, even if you weren't one of the active participants, was stressful.

“Great, thanks, John. I have a motions hearing this morning, but I should be out by noon . Maybe I'll just stop by,” Alex said with what could have passed for a smile with a little more effort. Picking up her briefcase, she headed out the door of the squad, a decided slump to those usually squared shoulders.

Munch made a mental note to be around the office at noon , come hell or high water. There really were some things in life worth missing lunch over.

Alex headed back toward the Courthouse for her hearing, the effects of too much wine from last night and no Olivia this morning causing her head to pound. With a sinking feeling, she realized that part of her was relieved that Olivia hadn't been there. She knew that Serena was right, that she had to at least try to talk to Liv, but the thought made her stomach churn. For all of her outward bravado, when it came to her personal relationships, Alex knew that she was a coward. There always seemed to be too much at stake. At work she could risk anything, be brash and confident, but when it came to telling someone how she felt about them, she faltered.

Faltering was not something a Cabot should do, and this particular Cabot made up her mind that she wasn't going to falter anymore. Whatever the consequences, and those consequences were so many and far-reaching that Alex felt a fluttering in her chest considering them, she was going to tell Olivia Benson how she felt about her, tell her that she was the bravest, strongest, most compassionate, most beautiful soul that Alex had ever known. Or at least, she was going to ask her to dinner.

“No need to go overboard right off. Dinner's a start, right?” Alex thought as she walked up the steps to the courthouse. “Dinner's just fine, isn't it? ” Ms. Cabot mused , knowing full well what Serena's answer to that query would be and smiling just a bit at the thought that Serena wasn't there to make it.

IX.

Elliot Stabler returned to the squad room an hour after Alex Cabot's departure. Three completely wasted hours trying to track down information on Bellini's girlfriend had yielded nothing but two very tired and irritable detectives. As if that were not enough to ruin Elliot's mood, heading back to the precinct, Liv had suddenly announced that she had an errand to run and taken off toward the subway entrance with nary an explanation.

Dropping wearily into his chair, it took a few minutes for Stabler to notice the cat who ate the canary grin on Munch's face. Glancing up, he was startled to see the normally taciturn detective actually chuckling with what apparent glee.

“Confirmed Elvis sighting, Munch?” Elliot inquired, an answering grin on his face.

“Nothing so mundane, my dear Stabler,” Munch replied, leaning back and cupping his hands behind his head. “No, something far more interesting. A Cabot sighting. To be specific, a nervous, sorely disappointed Cabot sighting.”

“Disappointed?” Elliot responded, clearly intrigued by the course of the conversation.

“That a certain detective was not at her desk. She had on a never before seen suit, she fidgeted, something little Cabots are no doubt taught not to do at an early age. And she wants Liv to call her, when she has some time. Just to chat. In short, a very un-Cabotlike Cabot,” Munch explained patiently, a gleam of delight in his eyes.

“Well, well. You don't think that she's actually going to make a move, do you?” Stabler asked with wonder, a smile lighting his handsome face.

“Looking good, my friend, looking very good. She said that she had a hearing but that she would try to stop back by around noon ,” Munch answered , “ So where the hell is your partner?”

“Damned if I know. She muttered something about an errand and took off,” Elliot responded. “I'll call her cell, make sure she's back by twelve.”

“You're not going to tell her about Cabot?”

“Hell, no. Think I want to ruin the surprise? Besides, knowing Liv, if she thinks that Cabot wants to have a personal conversation with her, she'll take off running the other direction,” Elliot stated, pulling out his own cell phone and hitting the speed dial.

“Hey, where are you?” Elliot said into the phone. “No reason.... Just the Captain wants us to brief him on Bellini's girlfriend....Yeah, I can do it alone, but you do work here, Liv..... No need to get bent out of shape.... Yeah, see you.”

“That sounded like it went well ,” Munch commented, a wry smile on his face.

“She isn't pleased, but she'll be here,” Stabler answered , “ and I personally cannot wait to see this little dance.”

“Amen,” said Munch, “Amen.”

As the clock on the wall above the door approached high noon, both Munch and Stabler began glancing hopefully at the doorway, waiting to see who would arrive first. Out of the corner of his eyes, Elliot caught a glimpse of great legs in two inch heels, and followed the look upwards, taking in the winter white suit. His eyes found blonde hair and a supremely gorgeous face, but not the one he was expecting. Munch, who had crossed over to the coffee machine, turned eagerly at the sound of high heels on the concrete floor.

“Detective Stabler, right?” Serena asked, moving forward and extending her hand. “I'm Serena Southerlyn, with the D.A.'s office. I've seen you around the courthouse.”

“Counselor, nice to meet you. What can we do for you?” Stabler inquired, indicating Munch with a nod of his head, “This is Detective John Munch .”

“Detective Munch, a pleasure ,” Serena smiled, fascinated to finally meet the conveyor of so many conspiracy stories that Alex had repeated, laughing over drinks. “Actually, I'm looking for Alex Cabot. Her office said that I could find her here.”

“From what I understand, she did tell Munch that she'd stop by here after her hearing, but she hasn't arrived yet,” Stabler told her, his eyes narrowing speculatively. “Anything we can help you with?”

“Alex is a friend of mine and she left her cell phone at my apartment. It's been ringing off the hook, so to speak, all morning, and I have court this afternoon, so I was trying to find her to get it back to her, but so far, I've been unsuccessful,” Serena explained, leaning back comfortably against the edge of Olivia's desk.

Serena was somewhat startled at the sudden smile that appeared on Detective Stabler's face. There was an almost gleeful aspect to it, far more than warranted by her simple explanation.

“Counselor. Serena, do you mind if I call you that? Serena,” he continued, not waiting for her reply, “when you say that you and Cabot are friends, you mean, close, tell each other secrets kind of friends, or just know each other from work friends?”

“That's an odd question, Detective,” Serena replied noncommittally.

“Trust me, Counselor, it's an important one ,” Elliot urged, the grin fading to be replaced by a look of serious intensity.

“I'd have to say that Alex is my best friend ,” Serena answered after a pause, as she assessed the sudden change in Stabler's attitude. She knew from what Alex had said of him that despite a temper that flared occasionally, that Elliot was one of the good guys. Still, she wondered where this conversation was leading.

She didn't have long to wait, as Elliot came around the corner of his desk and taking her by the arm, lead her to the relative privacy of the conference room. Munch merely smiled and returned to his desk, glancing at the clock with a little smile.

“Ok, Detective, I'm all ears. What is going on?

“Has Alex ever mentioned my partner, Olivia Benson, to you?” Elliot asked, watching closely the reaction of the woman before him.

Eyes narrowed in consideration, the pieces clicked into place. Serena seated herself in one of the scarred wooden chairs and leaning forward with her arms resting on her thighs, smiled knowingly.

“You could say that, Detective. I've never actually met your partner, but if Alex's description is anything to go by, you have the distinct privilege of working with a goddess. Congratulations,” Serena stated casually, blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “Am I to assume correctly, that the feeling is mutual and that Detective Benson holds Alex in the same high regard?”

“You could safely assume that, Counselor,” Elliot laughed, immensely pleased with the way things were working out. If Cabot wasn't coming at noon to ask Olivia out, then he suddenly had a surefire way to move things along, whether Alex and Liv wanted it to or not.

“So, Serena, it seems to me that we have a common purpose ,” Elliot began.

“Our own version of Fiddler, eh, Detective?” Serena replied.

“Well, not so much matchmakers, as facilitators, Counselor ,” Stabler agreed, smiling in turn.

“We arrest people for facilitation. Let's stick to calling it match making, ok?” Serena chuckled, clearly happy at having found a co-conspirator.

“Deal,” Elliot responded, reaching out to shake Serena's hand, sealing their new status.

“So, Alex left her phone in your apartment, huh?” Stabler asked, squinting a bit as he stared at the one way glass of the observation room on the other side of the conference room.

“Yeah, I stepped on it this morning when I was making the bed before work ,” Serena told him, waiting to see his reaction.

“In your bedroom?”

“Um-hum. Alex came over last night, lamenting about fighting with Olivia over some perp, and drank her way through a couple of bottles of wine. She passed out on the couch, but at some point she came and got in bed with me. She must have had the phone in her pocket when she got undressed,” Serena replied succinctly.

“You and Alex... ,” Elliot didn't finish his sentence, the words trailing off but the implication clear.

“Are friends, nothing more ,” Serena completed the sentence for him. “Do you honestly think that if I was in love with Alex myself, you and I would be having this conversation?”

“No. Sorry, had to ask. So, it's five till twelve . Alex is due here right around noon , and Liv is supposed to be back by then. Munch says that Alex came by this morning to talk to Olivia. Maybe she's going to ask her out?” Elliot conjectured.

“Last night, and then again this morning, Alex promised me that she was finally going to talk to Olivia and tell her how she feels about her. Now whether that promise survives the light of day, and actually seeing her is another question entirely. So I think that we need to have a plan “b” in place in case my dear friend chickens out, as I fear she will,” Serena said quietly, the attorney now clear in her tone.

“Agreed. And I think that your mission here is the perfect ploy to make Liv so jealous she can't think straight. You said you've never met Liv, didn't you?” At the shake of Serena's head, Elliot continued, “And I don't think that Liv knows who you are, I mean outside of a professional sense. So seeing you, and hearing you tell Alex that you brought her the phone she left in your bedroom should be enough to send her off the edge,” Elliot finished, part of him feeling a trace of guilt at plotting against his partner. Some of that guilt must have shown on his face, given Serena's next words.

“Don't. We're not trying to hurt them, Detective. We care for them and want them to be happy, and if given their mutual stubbornness, that requires a little push from us, then we wouldn't be able to truly call ourselves their friends if we failed to provide that push, now would we?” Serena intoned persuasively.

“I see why you're McCoy's second chair ,” Elliot chuckled.

“So, how are we going to work this?” Serena asked, glancing at the large black watch on her right wrist. “It's almost noon .”

“ Alex and Liv should be here any minute. I'll do a little eavesdropping, see what happens, and if there is no progress, I'll call you on your cell, and you can come in as if you just arrived and tell Alex you brought her her phone,” Elliot explained. “I'll sneak you out into the hall.”

“Sounds like a plan, Detective,” the blonde ADA replied, fishing a pad out of her bag, jotting her cell number down and handing it to Stabler.

“Let Operation Fiddler begin ,” Serena smiled, gathering her bag and following Stabler out through the back corridor into the main hallway.

“You never know, they may not need our help,” Elliot theorized, quickly checking the hall for signs of either woman.

“Possible, but to be perfectly honest, I doubt it. I know Alex. She's been dancing around this for a year now. I'm assuming that your partner has as well . The time has come to shove them off this cliff ,” Southerlyn informed him, her smile taking the bite of her words.

“Let's just hope that they can fly,” Elliot replied, praying that they wouldn't have to implement the plan, yet knowing that Serena was right. Sometimes, being a good friend could be a real pain in the ass.

X.

Olivia Benson stood in the relative shelter of the entrance to One Hogan Place and flipped her cell phone shut with a resigned sigh. No answer, again. This was the tenth or eleventh time that she had tried to reach Alex on her phone, with no luck. She wasn't in her office, and her secretary had said that she didn't have anything scheduled until eleven o'clock .

Olivia had left Elliot gazing at her somewhat slack-jawed when she had taken off this morning. After futile time spent searching for their potential perp's girlfriend, she had had enough. She had laid in bed all night last night, her thoughts a mass of what-ifs, and why-nots, and finally, at about four-thirty in the morning, when the night outside of her window was at its thickest, she had made up her mind.

She was going to talk to Alex, really talk to her. No subtle meandering around the subject, no “you know I am very fond of you” type remarks. She was going to tell Alexandra Cabot that she loved her, that she couldn't get through more than fifteen minutes at a time without thinking of her, that she wanted to spend the rest of her life making her as happy as humanly possible.

The only problem with this plan was that she couldn't find her. The resolve that had been so strong in Olivia at five this morning was slowly seeping away, replaced as ever by that nagging, relentless little voice hiding in the back of her mind, and whispering words of doom to her from dusty corners. She tried to find it, to shut it up, but it always seemed to evade her, slipping through cracks and appearing to disappear, only to suddenly materialize again, murmuring malicious words of fear, of doubt, of loss.

“She doesn't love you. She could never love you. God knows, you aren't good enough for her. Look at her. She's beautiful, brilliant, wealthy . Way, way out of your league, Benson. Give it up before you completely humiliate yourself and lose a friend in the bargain,” it whispered, its muted voice echoing in her brain like thunder through a canyon.

Glancing at her watch, Benson saw that it was getting close to noon . Elliot had already called her once to ask where the hell she was and when she was planning on getting back to help brief the Captain and finish the reports on their useless morning search for clues. With a sigh that struggled up from the depths of her soul, Olivia slipped her phone back into the pocket of her brown suede coat and turning up the collar against the harsh March winds, began walking back toward the subway entrance and the station house.

Meanwhile, Alexandra Cabot was sitting in a conference room at the Courthouse, glancing less than surreptitiously at her watch, as defense counsel asked meaningless question after meaningless question of her witness. She had told Munch that she would be back at the station around noon and the thought that this moron defense attorney might screw up her only chance to catch Olivia before she left on another call was making small beads of sweat slide down the curve of Alex's spine to settle uncomfortably in the small of her back.

Abruptly, Alex picked up the legal pad in front of her, slipped the cap back on her pen, and slid both items into her briefcase, ignoring completely the somewhat startled look of both the defense attorney and the witness. Counsel for the defense apparently took the less than subtle hint and stuttering slightly, drew his questions to as graceful a close as possible given the fact that the ADA was standing to pull on an expensive wool and cashmere coat. With a murmured, “Another meeting. Sorry to rush ,” Alex was out the door and making her way quickly toward the elevator.

Alex knew that she had been rude, but for once in her life, the social niceties didn't factor in as much as the knowledge that there was a strong possibility that Olivia would be gone by the time she reached the squad room. If she didn't manage to talk to Liv today and tell her how she felt, Alex feared that the moment would be lost, trampled and discarded forever by her fears, her doubts, and her insecurities. She knew it wasn't rational. After all, she had known Olivia Benson for nearly two years now. There was every possibility that she would know her for several more. And yet, the feeling of urgency seemed like a hand at her back, shoving her forward, causing her feet to move incautiously down the mucky, icy sidewalk.

Olivia arrived at the squad room as the hands of the clock eased onto the hour. A scowl of frustration and disappointment marred the smooth lines of her forehead, and any idiot could see at a glance that today wasn't the kind of day to annoy Olivia Benson.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, where the hell have I been, don't I know that there's work to do, the Captain has been waiting, I know Elliot, I know,” Olivia pronounced defensively, slipping out of her coat and sinking less than gracefully into her chair.

“I didn't say a word,” her partner replied, a slight smile of relief on his face that Liv had managed to return before Alex arrived, though he could do without the attitude. Although, to be honest, the look on Liv's faced went a long way towards easing Elliot's conscience about the plan that he and Serena had hatched.

Glancing over, he saw the expectant expression on Munch's face, like a child waiting for the spotlight that signaled the start of the circus. Chuckling a little to himself, Elliot couldn't blame Munch. This had been a long time in coming and he had to admit that he was looking forward to the show himself. One of the participants was there, swinging unsteadily on the trapeze. He just prayed that whatever happened, that one of them caught the other, because he was fairly certain that, in Liv's case anyway, there was no safety net.

The sound of heels clicking on the tiled floor brought three sets of eyes abruptly to the doorway, where Alexandra Cabot paused for a moment, face pale despite the cold outside, blue eyes seeking out and finding Olivia's own brown orbs.

Elliot glanced over to see the smirk of expectation on Munch's face, and wouldn't have been at all surprised to see him rubbing his hands together gleefully. Turning back to watch the excitement, Elliot noted the look of abject terror on the faces of both women, and thought idly that it was really a shame for Serena to miss all the fun.

To Be Continued...