A/N: After many false starts, here's the first chapter of the sequel to Homeward Bound (and what I hope is not another false start). Hope you like it, and thanks, as always, to the girl who's enduring the beta nightmare to end all beta nightmares.

He that hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune;

for they are impediments to great enterprises, either of virtue or mischief.

-Francis Bacon

-1-

February 2, 2013

Olivia Benson was pressed against the door of Room 6 at the Norwalk TravelStar Inn, with a doorknob bruising her hip and the links of a flimsy door chain digging into her shoulder. And there was nowhere else she'd rather be. She didn't notice the discomfort, or the outdated décor, or the scarred wooden furniture. She was, in fact, oblivious to everything except Alex's body pressed against her own.

Olivia loved Alex's aunt and uncle, and being able to propose to Alex at their house and share such an important moment with them had been surprisingly important to her, but she hadn't protested when Alex wanted to head home earlier than planned. The detour to a run-down motel was a welcome surprise. The detective loved Alex's assertive streak, but now that the emotions had settled a bit, Olivia was ready to take charge again. She tensed her back and pushed off from the door and began moving them across the room, toward the double bed that had definitely seen better days.

Their mouths never broke contact—Alex was hungry, and her desire was palpable in her searching kisses, and the way she continued to suck and bite at Olivia's lower lip. They were both surprised by the depth of emotion this proposal had exposed. Already fully committed, neither had expected being engaged to feel like such a profound change.

But it did. They'd discussed it last night, in hushed voices across the pillows at Bill & Jean's house. Alex's eyes had shone, slightly damp with tears that caught the light coming in across the bed from the boat dock:

"You're my fiancee." It was a statement, but just barely. Alex's voice was full of wonder.

Olivia nodded, and used her thumb to wipe away a single, salty drop from Alex's nose. "Don't cry, sweetheart."

"They're happy tears, really," Alex explained. "I'm just overwhelmed. I never, ever thought it would matter, but..."

"But now that it's happened, you can't believe we waited this long?"

"Exactly," Alex agreed. "If I'd had any idea how amazing this would feel, I'd have had a ring on your finger years ago."

"Sure," Olivia teased. "You say that now. How convenient." They both laughed, before Olivia grew suddenly serious. "I know what you mean, honey. I do. I've never been so happy to hear the word yes in my whole life."

"Even when I agreed to get you a warrant you had no business even asking for?" Now Alex was smiling.

"Even then," Olivia said, and leaned in to place a gentle, almost timid kiss on Alex's lips.

Their kisses now were anything but timid. As they reached the bed in the middle of the small room, Olivia was already unbuttoning Alex's jeans, sliding the zipper down and beginning to tug the waistband south. When she finally had to kneel briefly to finish pulling them off, Alex took the seconds available to pull off her sweater and toss it to the desk. She looked down to find Olivia leaning forward, and running the flat of her tongue along the front of Alex's panties. The sight was every bit as arousing as the sensations it triggered, and Alex was torn. She'd wanted more kisses, but this might be a perfectly satisfactory substitute.

She continued watching as Olivia worshiped her with two more long, slow licks across the damp cotton, inhaling Alex's scent as she went, humming—almost moaning-softly the whole time. Finally, Alex could take no more while she was standing here. Her knees were already weak, and threatening to quiver. She put her hand on Olivia's chin, and turned the beautiful face up toward her own.

"Baby, come here and kiss me. I can't stand much more of that."

Olivia reached up and put a single finger over Alex's lips, shaking her head. She dragged that finger down over Alex's chin, down her throat, and onto her chest, before flattening her hand, palm hot against Alex's chilled skin and fingers spread wide. She gave one push—firm, but gentle—and Alex was quickly lying back on the bed, knees bent at the edge and feet on the floor.

No more words were spoken. For an hour, they stroked and filled and fucked one another. The sex wasn't particularly tender, or romantic, except it was all undeniably imbued with this fantastic sense of peace, and happiness. They were calm and content as they lay under the covers in this cheap room by the highway, as the light began waning outside in the winter afternoon.

"Are we sleeping here tonight, honey?"

"Not on your life," Alex laughed. She was on her side, resting in the crook of Olivia's arm, her leg thrown over the body beside her. "We're going back to Manhattan. I just couldn't wait that long to have my way with you."

"We were in the same bed last night, you know," Olivia joked. "I can be discreet when it's absolutely necessary."

"I wasn't sure what it would be like to make love to an engaged woman. Maybe it would've been wild and deafeningly loud, swinging-from-the-chandeliers kind of stuff."

Olivia laughed, and rubbed Alex's arm. "Well, given that their house doesn't really have any chandeliers, I suppose you were safe," she said. "But I can always count on you to be cautious."

"Sometimes too cautious," Alex said. "But not about you, Liv, not anymore. I'm certain about this, more certain than I've ever been."

Now Olivia felt a tear or two of her own threatening to fall. "Me, too, sweetie. Not a single doubt."

"You're making it easy on me, Benson," Alex laughed. "Sounds like an open-and-shut case."

Olivia rolled so they were facing one another. "I've got news for you, Counselor. I'd have taken a plea a long time ago." She kissed the blonde, a deep kiss full of love but temporarily devoid of the hunger that had consumed them earlier.

"You're trying to divert my attention," Alex protested. "Though your kisses are, admittedly, a pleasant distraction, we have details to attend to."

"Details?"

"Well, one detail in particular. And I'm sure we can discuss it later, but...our names," Alex explained. "Were you thinking...?"

"I was thinking," Olivia answered, "that we'd probably keep our names. I don't mind telling the maître d' that we're Cabot, party of two, but the paperwork involved is daunting."

"Worse than a DD-5, probably," Alex laughed. "And I know how you are with those."

"Is that okay, Al? Do you mind?"

"No, actually, I don't. I was hoping you'd say that. Professionally, it makes the most sense. And I'd be sad if I couldn't call you Detective Benson."

"Good, then it's settled, Ms. Cabot," Olivia said. "But want to know the truth?"

"Of course I do," Alex replied.

Olivia smiled, a suddenly shy grin overtaking her face. "I can't wait to make you Mrs. Me."

"Mrs. Me?" Alex gazed back at her with a luminescent smile. "You know, I like that."

They kissed again, and Alex sat up suddenly and swung both feet onto the floor. Looking over her shoulder, she took in Olivia's mussed hair and twinkling brown eyes, and gave her a wink. "Come on then, Mrs. Me. Let's go home."

Madeline Taylor folded her Saturday New York Times and set it aside on her kitchen counter, then poured herself another cup of coffee. The umpteenth follow-up on the mayor's resignation had been blissfully free of Alexandra Cabot, but most of the others had mentioned her role in Stephen Grant's downfall. Madeline wasn't remotely surprised by any of it. Cabot was such a crusader—such a sense of justice, and so damn smug about it, too. Madeline had actually found that charming when they'd first met—almost cute, really. How had this woman been through the ordeal of being shot, smuggled into witness protection, and the rest of it, and still have any faith in right and wrong? But she did, even when she had no business believing in the good in anyone else.

But the Alexandra Cabot on display these days was powerful and driven and competent, nothing like the broken person who'd been under Madeline's thumb so many years ago. And Madeline didn't care for it, at all. That ridiculous scene at Tiella had infuriated her. She'd never cared for Alex's friend Kate, and the low-rent detective was certainly no better. She honestly hadn't thought about Alex much until running into her that night, but lately the blonde attorney was looming large in her mind.

She picked the newspaper up once more, seeking to refresh her memory about one detail of the whole sordid story. She skimmed the article, and found the information she was looking for on page A15, after the jump.

Dev Patel.

That was a name she'd remember. She was in no hurry, but she and Mr. Patel might have some common goals they could discuss when the time was right.