Maybe One Day…

by A. Magiluna Stormwriter

Rating: PG13
Pairing: Alex/Olivia
Category: Episode addition, friendship, angst.
Date: 10 February – 16 March 2005
Word Count: 2,343
Spoilers: “Loss” and “Ghost”
Summary: Olivia learns how Alex kept her sanity while in Witness Protection.
Archive: ShatterStorm Productions & … anyone else has to ask first

Disclaimer: "The Division", "CSI: Crime Scene Investigators," "Birds of Prey," "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit," the characters, and situations depicted are respectively the property of Lifetime Television, Kedzie Productions, Viacom Productions, and Paramount [The Division]; Jerry Bruckheimer Television, Alliance Atlantis, and CBS Productions [CSI: Crime Scene Investigators]; Tollin/Robbins, DC Comics, and Time/Warner via the WB [Birds of Prey]; and Wolf Films, Universal Network Television, and NBC [Law & Order: SVU]. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "The Division", "CSI: Crime Scene Investigators," "Birds of Prey," "Law & Order: SVU," Lifetime Television, CBS, the WB, NBC, or any representatives of the actors.

[Please do not fold, spindle, or mutilate. Thank you. Shatterpath]

Author's Disclaimer: “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit,” the characters and situations depicted are the property of Wolf Films, Universal Network Television, NBC, etc. They are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. This story is in no way affiliated with "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit,” Wolf Films, Universal Network Television, NBC, or any representatives of Stephanie Marsh or Mariska Hargitay. This story contains content between two mature, consenting adult females.

Author’s Notes: This was written for morte351 for the femslash05 challenge. It may get picked up again, it may not. Depends on how my muses feel…

Beta: shatterpath

“Detective Benson, can I speak with you for a moment?” Agent Hammond turned that piercing gaze on me, almost imploring.

I snorted at him in derision. “And why the hell should I give you any of my time? For all I know you’ve kept us from seeing Alex again.”

He glared at me, and I felt slightly chastised by the look in his eyes. But not much. Alex should have been with us, celebrating that bastard’s conviction. But no, Hammond had to tell us that Alex was gone again, off to learn another new life. At least little Antonio had the chance to start fresh with the bulk of his life. What did Alex have to look forward to?

“Because Alex is the one that asked me to speak to you.”

I blinked at that, curiosity beating out my anger at the man. I handed Elliot my glass, shook my head when he quirked an eyebrow in question. He took the glass silently, squeezed my hand, and let me go to follow Hammond out into the hallway. We walked a few yards down from the door and stepped into an empty interrogation room. I moved to lean against the table, somehow believing I’d need the support.

“So what did she ask you to tell me?” I finally asked, realizing belatedly how hollow and lost my voice sounded.

“She wanted you to know that she’s trying to talk the marshals into letting her adopt Antonio. I happen to agree with her. Losing the one friend he has left that he can be around would be quite a blow to his psyche. I think they’ll be good for each other.” He paused and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small box. He studied it for a long moment before holding it out to me. “And she asked me to give you this. Said she’d wanted to when you were in the motel room, but that she’d chickened out. She made me swear I’d get it to you, and that I’d let her know you’d taken it.”

I nodded numbly, taking the box and letting it rest in my hands. I stared at it, studying it closely. It was a small cardboard keepsake box, very plain and tied up in string, with my name written across an envelope taped to the top. It was her handwriting. I’d recognize it anywhere. Swallowing back the lump that had gathered in my throat, I met his gaze. “What is it?” My voice was even more hoarse and pathetic. Did I always wear my heart on my sleeve where Alex Cabot was involved?

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “All I know is that she said it was vital I get this to you.” He turned as if to leave, but stopped at the door. “Detective, I’m sorry that you didn’t get to say goodbye. For as insistent as she was to see you the last time, Ms. Cabot was just as insistent this time not to see you.”

And then he walked out. And I sincerely prayed I’d never see that man again, or I shouldn’t be held accountable for my actions if I did.


I’d returned to the celebration and put on a brave face. But I certainly didn’t enjoy myself. My mind kept wandering to Hammond’s words…and to the box waiting in my jacket. What the hell had Alex given me? And why couldn’t she have said goodbye? Didn’t she know how much it hurt to have it this way?

The soonest opportunity I had to get out, I took it. I did my best to put the box out of my mind while I drove home. As soon as I was in my apartment and into something comfortable, I grabbed a beer and curled up on the couch with the box. I stared at it for a long moment before I wrestled the string off. Taking a long pull on my beer, I opened the envelope taped to the box. There wasn’t much written there, and I could see the scrawl that meant she’d been in a hurry to write it.

Dear Olivia,

I wish things could be different, but we both know the score. The marshals are coming soon to take Antonio and me somewhere safe. They’ll get us our new identities and we’ll go from there. Hopefully, they’ll let us stay together, if only for Antonio’s sake.

Oh Olivia, there are so many things I’ve wanted to say to you, but I was afraid. I wanted to give you these when we were in the motel room, wanted to tell you all of this. But I couldn’t.

I hope you will read these letters and understand what it is I’ve tried to tell you. Please don’t be angry with me. Try to understand what it is I’m saying.

I couldn’t see you again and walk away. I couldn’t say goodbye again. It would kill me, rip my heart out to walk away from you again.

Please promise me you’ll understand, Olivia.

I love you and I hope one day things will be different…


I stared at the letter for a moment longer before setting it aside to open the box. The sight of all the letters in that box promptly forced me to finish my beer. Getting up slowly, I grabbed the rest of the six-pack. Somehow I knew this was going to be a long, sleepless night.

Screwing up my courage, I picked out the first letter and began to read it.

Dear Olivia,

I know I was ordered told to forget my old life, to embrace this new one, and be grateful to still be alive. It’s bullshit, okay? How am I supposed to forget my entire life? It’s just not possible. Having to remember all of these new details that are supposed to be old hat. Remembering to answer to a different name.

I just want to go back to my old life. It was safe, comfortable, sane.

But until Velez and his cronies are taken care of permanently, I’m stuck with this life. You know what the worst part is? I don’t have any of my old things or my old friends. I don’t have you…

You know, I’m not even supposed to be doing this, writing you these letters. Doesn’t matter that I keep them locked away from everyone and everything around me. Agent Hammond said it’s not wise, not safe. But damn it, I’m not going to give up on the entirety of my old life.

Well, I suppose there’s nothing more to do about it now, is there? Nothing but get used to this new life and forget the old one. But I won’t forget you, Olivia. That could never happen.



Dear Olivia,

I suppose it’s getting easier to life with this life. It’s not perfect, but I must say that I’ve been well provided for. I just don’t have everything I want that would make it perfect… Well, to be honest, I might never have had that, shooting or not. Probably best not to dwell on it, right?

There have been times I have wanted to pick up the phone and call you…any of you. I miss all of you terribly, but especially you and Elliot. I can only imagine what it must be like for the two of you, having to live a lie and pretend I’m dead. I hope it doesn’t weigh too heavily on your souls. I wouldn’t want that, not for you. I’d rather you thought I was dead as well than hurt you by forcing you to live a lie.

I wish there was a way to let you know that I’m doing all right…

So I suppose I should tell you a little bit about my new life, right? Well, my name now is Emily. Oddly enough, I don’t mind having it. My favorite writer as child was Emily Bronte. And of course, now that I have the name, I find myself wanting to read her works again. Small comforts of a life I’ve had to leave behind.

I’m living in Wisconsin now. I thought New York was horrid in the winter. New York has nothing on Wisconsin. I’m in Wausau, of all places. Probably the biggest metropolis for a couple hundred miles around. I’m in the middle of nowhere, Olivia. All I can smell is cows and paper mills. I’ve been told there’s a pickle factory within like an hour’s drive. Olivia, they said you can smell it in the summer! Shoot me now. Okay, that was in poor taste. And did I mention the football? This whole football craze in this state just astounds me to no end. But I digress.

Insurance claims adjustor. That’s what they have me doing. Me. Can you believe it? It’s such a shift in perspective for me. And it’s so damned boring.

God, I wish you were here, Olivia. You have no idea how lonely it is. I miss you.



Dear Olivia,

Winters in Wisconsin are brutal. I thought I was prepared. I may never get warm again. It’s been four months now, and I see no end in sight to this damned snow and ice. Will I ever feel the warmth of the sun again? Or am I going to slowly freeze to death?

If only you were here to warm me up…

I know I’ve never told you this, Olivia, and you’d probably be surprised if you ever found out. I just… I’ve enjoyed our friendship over the years…and I’ve wanted more. There were so many times I wanted to tell you, but something always came up. And then I got cocky with Cesar Velez and it cost me everything.

No, not everything. I’m still alive…barely. No, it’s nothing like that. Physically, I’m fine. Healthy as a horse, except for the occasional twinges in my shoulder. Small price to pay for the ability to live and breathe and function in the world. And yet, I’d rather have you here. I’d give up anything and everything to have you here with me. Even if all you want is friendship. Damn it, Olivia, don’t you get it? I need you in my life. You’re all I have left to keep me going.

My mother died. Did you know that? Did you go to the funeral? I hope someone I knew did. I certainly couldn’t go. And I wish I could have. She died believing she buried her only child first. Do you have any idea the guilt that’s given me?

It’s times like this I wish that bullet would have done its job. I don’t like being separated from all I hold dear.

I miss you...



Dear Olivia,

I’ve been living as Emily Forrester for almost six months, and it’s just now really starting to feel like I could be passably comfortable in this skin, this life. It still hurts to know that everyone thinks I’m dead, that you and Elliot have to live this lie. But there’s nothing to be done about it until Cesar Velez and his entire organization are eradicated. And we both know just how extensive an organization that is. I’ll never again be Alexandra Cabot in public.

And I’m forcing myself not to be her in private either. Except these letters to you. For every letter I write to you and save in this little box, there are ten that get destroyed, burned in the fireplace, for being ridiculously melodramatic. I only allow myself to slip back into my old self when I write to you. It’s an odd sensation.

Olivia, I’ve done something I’ll probably regret. I’m seeing someone else. A man. So I don’t feel like I’m being unfaithful…to you. His name is Henry. He’s rather unassuming, but he has this thing for conspiracy theories. Munch would probably be cracking up that I’m dating someone he could discuss his wild theories with. I’ve managed to talk him out of bringing them up around me, claiming it was against my beliefs. So far, it’s worked.

We’re sort of co-habitating, I guess that’s what you’d call it. I tolerate him in my bed. Oh, he’s sincere and attentive and sweet. But he’s not you. No, I never got the chance to know the bliss of making love to you, but my imagination has had to suffice. And it will have to even longer. Is it wrong of me to admit that when Henry’s making love to me, I imagine it’s you instead? I’d never let him know that, of course. He’d never understand.

He keeps wanting to take me to Tulsa, to visit where I grew up. That’s what everyone thinks, that I’m from Tulsa. Can you imagine me living in such a sprawling vast wasteland? Wausau’s hard enough to get used to. I told him I have bad memories from my childhood that I’d rather not revisit. It seems to have mollified him.

Oh Olivia, I wish I could talk to you. These letters just aren’t enough.

I miss you so much, Olivia, and I wish we could be together.



“I can’t do this!” I threw the letters aside, angry tears leaving blackened streaks down my cheeks. “Damn you, Alex!” I railed at the box. “Why? Why now? When I can’t do anything about it!”

There was no answer. Not that I’d expected one. I finished off the last of my beer and packed the letters back into the box. I stood there for a moment, torn as to what to do. And then I quietly walked into my bedroom and pulled out the shoebox from beneath my bed. Opening it, I set Alex’s box inside, on top of the letters I’d been writing to her. And then I shut the box and placed it back in its hiding spot.

Maybe one day I’d finish her letters.

Maybe one day she’d see mine.

Maybe one day things would be different…