Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Dick Wolf.

This takes place during Alex's time in WPP. I took some liberties here, obviously. This will be a two-shot, and please review if you enjoyed the first part, because reviews make my day and inspire my creativity.

It was a Friday night, and Olivia Benson was stuck in Cedar Lake, Wisconsin. She had been sent here to locate Anna Robins, who had been visiting New York to vet a potential university when she'd been brutally raped by two masked men. She had reported the rape to the NYPD and Olivia and Elliot had been assigned to her case. She had seemed cooperative up until yesterday, which was the day the trial of her rapists was supposed to begin. When Anna had not showed up for court, Olivia had been given the task of hunting her down, and discovered a plane ticket departing JFK the evening before in Anna's name. The local police had been no help in locating Anna, so Captain Cragen had sent her on the next flight out to Wisconsin, hoping that seeing Olivia's face would convince Anna to return to New York to testify. Although usually the NYPD wouldn't have devoted such a large sum of money to getting a single rape victim halfway across the country to testify, the case was very high-profile and the higher-ups knew that not getting a conviction would reflect badly on them.

Olivia had accomplished her goal several hours ago. Although Anna had been very reluctant to come back to New York, insisting that she wasn't strong enough to testify, that she couldn't bear to see the men's faces, that she didn't know what she would do if they weren't convicted, that she feared they might come after her again, Olivia had convinced her that testifying would bring her peace of mind and likely protect the rapists' future victims. Anna had finally agreed to return, but the next flight into New York wasn't until Saturday morning. This left Olivia with a fair amount of time to kill tonight.

Since the town had less than a thousand people, there wasn't much to do in Cedar Lake, Wisconsin. Instead of hanging out in the decrepit motel the NYPD had provided for her, Olivia decided to take a walk. Soon, she stumbled across a small bar and decided to go inside and order a drink. Drinking alone on a Friday night wasn't exactly her favorite way to spend an evening, but since Alex had been shot almost a year ago, she hadn't had the wherewithal to do much else. When she wasn't working as much overtime as she possibly could, she would go out to Maloney's or another cop bar and drink until the memory of Alex's blood on her hands faded away, until her brain was too sluggish to remember much of anything, until she wouldn't have any thoughts of all.

She couldn't do that tonight, of course. She had to be sharp and in full control of all mental faculties for tomorrow morning, just in case Anna Robins changed her mind again and Olivia would be tasked with convincing her once more to return to the city. But being away from the city was always worse than being in New York, because she knew that Alex could be anywhere, in any city, in any state, and whenever she was out of New York, her heart always skipped a beat at any brief flash of blonde hair or blue eyes, and she would always have to give the woman a second glance, just in case it was Alex. And it never was. In New York, she never allowed herself that hope, because she knew it was not only foolish but impossible. Here, in Cedar Lake, Wisconsin, anything was possible. And Olivia hated herself for believing that, when she knew it would only lead to more heartbreak, more tears soaking her pillow when she returned to the motel, alone.

Alex Cabot was sitting on a barstool at the only bar in the small town Emily Richards had been located to. This had become her usual way to spend her evenings. She hated her house, hated how large and empty it seemed, void of any happy memories or photographs or anything personal whatsoever. Even though it had been 10 months and 18 days since she had arrived, she had not unpacked much and had not decorated her apartment or made any changes other than those that were absolutely necessary. A tiny part of her still held out hope that today would be the day Hammond came knocking on her door and told her she could return to New York, to Olivia, and she wanted to be ready.

It was ridiculous and illogical, but love just did that to people.

Alex was on her third gin and tonic of the evening, and although the bartender whose name she always forgot seemed reluctant to bring her another when she asked, he had done so anyway. He was keeping an eye on her, as he did most nights, which she hated. She could take care of herself, and she knew when she'd had too much to drink. She wasn't even remotely approaching her limit tonight.

The bartender had spoken to her the first few times he'd seen her at the bar, obviously curious as to why an attractive young woman came to the bar by herself every evening and never left with anyone, but she'd made it clear from the start that she didn't want company. She wanted alcohol and she wanted oblivion. That was all. The bartender made sure the other patrons left her alone, and she appreciated it, but that did not mean she was interested in anything more than a cursory "thank you" when he brought her her drink.

She kept her eyes on her drink, absently tracing the tabletop with her index finger. She did not want to look around at the happy couples who were out on this Friday night, laughing with each other and looking at each other with the love she had once seen reflected back at her in Olivia's eyes. She sometimes brought a book on nights like this, but once the alcohol was in her system, her brain wasn't focussed enough to comprehend any of the words on the page.

She wondered, idly, how Alex Cabot, ADA extraordinaire, had been reduced to this.

She felt someone slip onto the stool next to her and kept her gaze averted so the person would not speak to her. The first few times she had come here, all of the men sitting at the bar had turned to stare, and the majority had tried chatting her up or asking her out. That was before she'd recovered the icy stare she had once been renowned for, the one that set a barrier between her and the rest of the world.

Alex's heart jumped and she could barely breathe for a moment when she heard her own name, her real name, spoken softly, gently, in a voice she had not heard in nearly a year. For a moment, she feared she was imagining it – she imagined Olivia, heard Olivia's voice and saw her face in every woman on the street, more often than she cared to admit. But there it was again, a second later, in the same quiet, uncertain voice that she knew so well, and Alex dared to lift her head. Her eyes darted toward the sound of her name, and she nearly gasped when her eyes locked onto deep brown ones, wide with surprise and excitement and the love she had sorely missed in the past ten and a half months.

Alex held her breath, not daring to look away, in case she turned back to find it all had just been a hallucination brought on by the alcohol, that the seat which Olivia now occupied was really empty and she was alone again. She felt her girlfriend's name slip past her lips, and as Olivia's soft hand came up to cup her cheek, she couldn't help the tiny whimper that escaped. Olivia was here and she was real and her hand was warm and Alex had missed her so much, and she felt the tears rushing to her eyes and blinked them back, knowing that she could not and would not allow herself to cry. This was such a small town, and everyone knew everyone, and she did not want to be the subject of gossip or rumors or unwanted questions. She would not let the people she had to see every day see her cry.

Her next thought was that it hardly mattered. Olivia was here. Maybe Olivia was coming to take her home, to tell her that Velez was dead, or that staying in New York had been a horrible mistake and she wanted to come here to be with Alex. Although she knew all of these scenarios were unlikely, Alex couldn't help but hope. How else would Olivia have found her?

Her throat was tight and she couldn't muster the strength to say anything else, so she just sat there for a moment, Olivia's hand gently caressing her cheek. She still wasn't sure she wasn't simply imagining all of this, but it felt so nice to have Olivia touch her in the way only Olivia could – so tenderly and affectionately, as if Alex was the most precious thing in the world. If this was a hallucination, she would spend every minute she could in this bar, gulping down gin and tonic until she could feel this again. She had not been touched physically since she had left Hammond, and even that was just a handshake that went along with his murmured, "Take care of yourself," as he dropped her off at the house she now lived in. She had forgotten what it felt like to bask in Olivia's love, to melt under her gaze, to feel her heart quicken at a fleeting touch.

She could see the tears in Olivia's eyes, and she was almost certain as Olivia gave her a watery smile that this was real. Olivia seemed to be having just as much difficulty speaking as she was, but her eyes conveyed everything that her words could not, and Alex's heart fluttered just as it had the first time Olivia had said she loved her. Her eyes were saying that now.

She reached out to clasp Olivia's other hand, and Olivia's grip was strong and comforting, and they stayed like that, staring into each other's eyes, before Olivia finally spoke. "It's really you, isn't it?" she said with a nervous chuckle.

Alex nodded, struck by the urge to wrap her arms around Olivia and never let her go. She pulled a couple bills out of her wallet and dropped the money down on the table, more than enough to cover her tab. "Come on," she said, her voice barely audible as she clung to Olivia's hand and pulled her out of the bar.

Alex's stomach clenched as she noticed Olivia glancing warily up and down the street, making sure the area was free of threats, and she knew Olivia had not come bearing good news. The detective was careful to walk on the side of the pavement closest to the road, and she did not let go of Alex's hand. The protective gestures would have made Alex smile at any other time, but her nerves were on edge and her emotions were roiling at the unexpectedness of Olivia's presence. She wanted to take Olivia back to her house and have the detective hold her all night. She wanted to beg Olivia to take her home. She wanted to beg Olivia to stay here with her. She wanted to pour out all her fears to Olivia, and tell her how miserable she was here and how much she missed her, and she wanted to let herself go in Olivia's arms. She wanted to cry, and she wanted Olivia to wrap her up in her arms and tell her everything was going to be okay. She wanted Olivia to make everything okay.

Instead, she kept her eyes on Olivia's, unable to look away from her girlfriend's loving gaze. "How did you find me?" she asked, her voice low and thready.

Even in the glow of the moonlight, she could see the moisture well up in Olivia's eyes at the question. "Sweetheart," she said, her voice cracking, "I wasn't looking."

Alex melted at the term of endearment, and for a brief moment she longed to burst into tears and simply let Olivia hold her. But there were things that needed to be said, and she let herself ponder Olivia's words for a moment, her heart constricting as she realized their implications. "You didn't know I was here," she whispered, feeling the sorrow bubble up in her chest, knowing that now that she had Olivia back, now that Olivia was with her and holding her hand, now that she knew Olivia still loved her and had not found someone else, she would not be able to let her go again.

Olivia shook her head, her shoulders slumped. "Cragen sent me up here to bring back a rape vic to New York. She's testifying on Monday and she left the city . . . I didn't know you were here at all. I looked for you everywhere, but I didn't know."

Overwhelmed with the fear that her love would be taken from her once again, Alex pulled Olivia into her arms, hugging her with a fierceness she had never felt toward anyone before. Olivia hugged her back, resting her chin on Alex's shoulder and gently rubbing her back. "I missed you," Alex said softly, and she felt Olivia murmur the same into her ear. They stayed like that for several long moments, basking in the comfort of their shared embrace, before Olivia pulled back and held Alex at arm's length, her eyes raking over Alex's body and taking in her appearance.

"Alex, you've lost a lot of weight. You aren't looking well."

Alex pulled Olivia to her again. "Please don't make me stay here by myself," she whispered, knowing that what she was asking was completely unfair and inappropriate and an unacceptable burden to place on the woman she loved.

She felt Olivia's arms wrap tightly around her once more. "I'm flying out in the morning," she said, her voice so full of anguish that Alex was sorry for even mentioning anything. Although her own loneliness was nearly palpable, she could not imagine how Olivia had felt for so long, not knowing where she was and searching for her everywhere she went.

"I'm sorry –"

"Shh, it's okay." Olivia pressed a kiss to Alex's temple, and Alex could feel the wetness on her girlfriend's cheeks from her tears. "It's okay. I'm here now. I'm here, and I love you so much."

"I love you, too." Knowing they had just one night now, Alex could not bring herself to voice her deepest fear of never being allowed to come home, and she knew that arguing and demanding that Olivia bring her back to New York would accomplish nothing and only make it harder for both of them. She knew that although Olivia loved her and missed her, Olivia would do anything to keep her safe, and even if that meant they had to be apart, Olivia would insist that she stay here. She would not waste their evening complaining about being here, so far from the city and the people she knew and loved. She would not speak of the way one of her colleagues constantly ogled her and made crude remarks, and she would not tell Olivia that she had spent her birthday alone in her bedroom crying buckets of tears, not trusting herself to even leave the house because she didn't want anyone else to see her like that.

"How's my mother?" she asked instead, eager for news about the life and the people she had left behind.

"She's been ill recently," Olivia said hesitantly, "but I think she'll be fine. She and I have become quite close, actually. We get together a few times a month." She smiled slightly. "She tells me stories about you. What you were like as a child. You were quite a handful."

Alex's heart ached, almost sorry she had asked. The thought of her mother thinking she had survived her only child was too much to bear. "Will you come back to my house, Liv?"

Olivia nodded, and they walked the six blocks back to Alex's modest two-storey house in silence.