Constellations
Author: Liz
E-mail: [email protected]
Fandom: Law and Order: Special Victims Unit
Category: Slash
Feedback: Craved
Pairing: Alex/Olivia
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: All characters remain the property of their rightful owners.
Summary: A Cabot-centric fic in response to a challenge involving the song "Not That Girl" from Wicked.
Spoilers: br>
"May I kiss you?"
* * * * *
"Unacceptable, Alexandra! What were you thinking? Were you thinking at
all?!" Cavanaugh Cabot gesticulated wildly with the crystal glass, cognac sloshing dangerously against the sides.
"The riding instructor. A girl who tromps around in the dirt all day!
Unacceptable!"
The seventeen-year-old Alexandra stood stone still before her father,
perfect posture with shaking hands clasped behind her back. She did not speak.
"Alexandra. . . . " He sighed, voice quieting. "There are many expectations
brought about by my position. For myself, and for you as well. This is
unacceptable, and it will not happen again. You are to inform this . . . person that your . . . actions were a mistake and will not be repeated. This Friday, the Blakesleys have asked us to dinner at the Club. You will attend, you will be pleasant, and you will treat David with respect. The Blakesleys were not amused the last time we dined. Am I understood, Alexandra?"
"Yes, sir."
* * * * *
Andrew Callahan, of Rutherford, Callahan and Milner, sat across the table.
He had talked ceaselessly through appetizers, and the arrival of the entrees
hadn't deterred his colloquial hemorrhage. Alexandra took a sip of her wine,
white, and perfectly chilled. She studied the broad line of his shoulders,
well-shaped and maintained, a perfect showcase of masculinity- utterly uninteresting.
Hands touch, eyes meet
Sudden silence, sudden heat
Hearts leap in a giddy whirl
He could be that boy
But I'm not that girl
Taking another sip of her wine, barely resisting the urge to toss back the
drink and get wonderfully, artfully sloshed, Alexandra looked around the
restaurant, eyes settling on the underdressed pair stalking toward her.
Don't dream too far
Don't lose sight of who you are
Don't remember that rush of joy
He could be that boy
I'm not that girl
Unconsciously, she smoothed a hand across the front of her red dress.
Scanning her eyes across Detective Benson's curves, she smiled for a moment, shook her head, and tossed back the rest of her wine.
Ev'ry so often we long to steal
To the land of what-might-have-been
But that doesn't soften the ache we feel
When reality sets back in
"May I help you, Detectives?"
* * * * *
"Alexandra, would you perhaps care to take a walk, enjoy the evening?"
"Yes, David, that sounds . . . pleasant."'Like being drawn and quartered,'
thought the girl as she rose from the table, taking David's proffered arm.
Blithe smile, lithe limb
She who's winsome, she wins him
Gold hair with a gentle curl
That's the girl he chose
And heaven knows
I'm not that girl . . .
A sophomore on holiday from Yale, David played the charm act like a
concerto. Alexandra was not moved by his charm or his good looks or much of anything about this boy.
He steered her outside, making mindless pleasantries as he led her onto the
cart path of the golf course, gravel crunching underfoot. The weight of his
hand against her arm like a manacle, Alexandra searched the stars, remembering
the soft sweet kisses that now bound her into penance. Kissing her had not felt wrong, not as strong arms had curled gently around her waist and a teasing tongue had flitted across her lips. She had smelled like wind and sun with a faint tone of sweat, lovely and wild.
Still swimming in her reverie, Alexandra did not question when David drew to
a halt, or when he stared intently at her starry-eyed expression, not even
protesting when he leaned down to kiss her.
* * * * *
"Alexandra . . . you're a beautiful young lady, certainly you can find a
good young man. Please . . . for me?"
"Okay, mother."
* * * * *
Alone. Terrible loneliness, even as she lay with her legs spread on the 14th
green, dress pushed up above her waist, David's thrusts terrible, rough,
brutal. She had not said �no,' but she had not said �yes' and he hurt inside of her, her first, and she most certainly did not love him. Stars fell from her blue-eyed night sky, diamond tears on her face, beautiful, unbreakable, alone.
Don't wish, don't start
Wishing only wounds the heart
I wasn't born for the rose and pearl
There's a girl I know
He loves her so
I'm not that girl . . .
* * * * *
Alex? Alex, are you okay? Come back, sweetheart." Alex tilted her head
upwards, looking deep into Olivia's worried obsidian stare.
"Are you okay, Ally? I thought I lost you there for a second."
"Just thinking about memories, expectations. You . . . I . . . what is
expected of me and what I want right now are two divergent paths. And the path of expectations seems . . . exceptionally lonely."
"And the other path?"
"On that path . . . I answer your question and you kiss me."
Olivia smiled, entwined the fingers of one hand with Alex's slender digits,
then bowed her head, brushing her lips lightly across Alex's mouth, again and
again, each kiss growing longer. Alex tangled one hand into Olivia's hair,
pleading for her kisses, parting her lips against the onslaught of the impossibly gentle kisses. Bestowing one final sweet kiss upon Alex's mouth, Olivia pulled away, wrapping her arms around the other woman's waist. With her head resting against Olivia's shoulder, Alex raised blue eyes to the window in time to see one perfect shooting star streak across the sky.
