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Fic: Patria Potestas (L&O:SVU : Alex/Olivia)
TITLE: Patria Potestas
AUTHOR: Angie
DISTRIBUTION: Feel free to take this, just let me know where it's gone.
FANDOM: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit
PAIRING: Alex/Olivia
SUMMARY: First four eps of S2 from Olivia's POV as she struggles with her feelings.
RATING: R-ish
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.
WORD COUNT: 1,401
AUTHOR'S NOTES: OK, these might be longer than the actual fic. This is a Companion piece to Reasonable Doubt by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
faithinthepoor. Her piece covered the first four episodes of Season 2 from Alex's POV, and at andrus_dark's suggestion, this one covers them from Olivia's POV. Our plan is to turn this into a series covering the whole of season 2. Just a little warning, faithinthepoor loves the angst, therefore, the tone of this piece is very different from the series I have been posting here.
She sometimes wonders why she stays with the unit. There are easier gigs than SVU. She imagines a world where she doesn’t have to hear about foster fathers who abuse their sons, or watch rapists walk free, smiling at their victims. Other people don’t have to go through that day after day. Or relive it night after night, unable to sleep for memories of the countless damaged people they encounter. Why does she do it?
She tells herself repeatedly that it is not about him. It isn’t some misplaced penance, atonement for the sins of the father. She wants to help people who have been subjected to cruelty, in whatever form. So if anything, her choice of profession was influenced by her mother. Certainly not by him. She wouldn’t give him that much power. She won’t become something because of him.
The child of rape. The clichéd man-hating cop. That’s not her. He doesn’t hold that much sway over her life. She likes men. Always has.
As a teenager she went for older men. Unobtainable, sometimes married, men that she could look up to and admire. She would fantasise about them telling her they loved her, that she was beautiful, that they were proud of her. She would sleep with them, longing for comfort, reassurance that he hadn’t fucked her up beyond repair. But it didn’t come. The experiences left her feeling empty, used.
Later, she would go out to bars and screw nameless men, their faces often blurred by alcohol. They rarely stayed the night and she didn’t care. She wasn’t looking for a relationship. Her job wouldn’t allow her to sustain one. She wasn’t looking for ‘the one’. She just needed to prove to herself that she liked it. She liked dick.
But though she denies it, even to herself, her body betrays her. She cannot stop it from reacting to soft curves and full-lips. She curses herself every time she realises she’s looking just a little too long, breathing just a little too fast. She buried the feelings deep down inside her long ago. Man-hating dyke cop? No way in hell is he going to turn her into that.
Then the new ADA shows up and her carefully constructed persona starts to crack. The physical attraction was immediate and undeniable. But she’s used to that. She can cope with that. It’s always been easy enough to ignore or to put it down to ‘admiration’. But this time…She tries to keep her opinions professional. To only evaluate Alex’s abilities in the courtroom. But somehow she keeps noticing her eyes, her legs, her voice.
It was all too quick, everything happening at once. Elliot was under investigation, at risk of losing his job. Monique chained to her desk, her job also hanging in the balance. And Alex.
When Alex was assigned to SVU, Olivia focussed her attention on Elliot’s situation and on the case and avoided speaking to the ADA more than necessary. Elliot didn’t like her, he made no secret of it. Alex had made some remarks about the Morris Commission’s investigation on him that he didn’t much care for. He thought she was a stuck-up, blue-blooded princess. Olivia wanted to agree with him. Alex certainly seems of higher-stock than the rest of them. Probably had ancestors on the Mayflower [1] . Snatches of a poem keep coming to Olivia, something about fish and beans and the Cabots talking to God [2].
Olivia occasionally wonders about her own ancestors. It’s a strange position to be in, not to know where you come from. She looks in the mirror and wonders what her features say about her. Her dark eyes and olive skin could point to Mediterranean lineage. She could just as easily be of Irish descent. Maybe her ancestors were on the Mayflower too, along with the Cabots. She just doesn’t know.
Despite Elliot’s assessment of Alex, Olivia can’t help but admire her. She goes by the book, ensuring that she’s going to get a conviction. Her faith in the law appears unshakeable, but Olivia knows that it is only a matter of time before Alex realises that ‘the law’ is not the be all and end all in SVU. Whether or not a perp goes to jail or gets the needle, their victim still has to live with the effects of their crime, every day for the rest of their lives.
During Michael Goran’s trial, Alex did what she had to do. She prosecuted the crime as the law prescribes. But she showed herself to be a compassionate person, which even Elliot had to admit. Doesn't stop him referring to as her the ‘ice-princess’. Olivia’s first testimony with Alex as prosecutor was an unsettling experience. She didn’t want her evidence to put the kid away, as she knew it would. But being pinned by Alex’s eyes for the entirety of the testimony was far more worrying. Olivia found herself fidgeting, avoiding eye-contact, which she never did in court. Afterwards she went out to a bar, she found a guy to fuck the doubts out of her head. But even as he was pounding gracelessly into her, she could see those blue eyes staring at her like nobody else was in the room.
She starts standing just too close to Alex when they speak, so that she can smell her perfume. She sits on Alex’s desk when she visits her office, portraying an intimacy that only exists in her imagination.
Alex is almost certainly straight. For all Olivia knows, she has a boyfriend, a fiancé, a husband. Or all of the above. They are not the kind of colleagues who have shared these details with each other. Olivia wants to ask, to confirm it in her own head so that she can begin to repress her feelings. But something prevents her from doing so. She has plenty of opportunity during the Cleary trial, she’s practically taken up residence in Alex’s office. She almost voices the question on a number of occasions; over coffee, waiting around for the case to be called. But she doesn’t. Part of her doesn’t want to know. The part of her she denies the existence of. Alex is making it harder to do that.
Olivia consoles herself with the certainty that Alex won’t last long in SVU. The revulsion on her face as she looks down on the body of Kenneth Cleary speaks volumes. The reality of what they do will sink in sooner rather than later and she’ll move on to something safer, where she doesn’t have to see the perversions of New York’s citizens. Or rapists with their brains seeping into the wooden flooring of well-to-do houses.
Olivia walks out of the Cleary’s house, needing the fresh air, needing to get away from that look on Harper’s face. If they’d nailed the guy the first time around, Harper would’ve had a different life. One that didn’t include turning herself into a crazed stalker. And a murderer. A murderer without remorse. Olivia has killed people; twisted, evil people. But every time it happens, she feels physically sick afterwards. That smile on Harper’s face elicits a similar feeling in her stomach, as if she’d pulled the trigger herself. Her failings had turned a woman into a cold-blooded killer. And she’d have to live with that.
Outside she sees Alex standing alone. Their eyes meet and Olivia’s game face slips into place. She won’t let the ADA see how this affects her. She can’t afford to let her in now. She nods in acknowledgement of their shared disgust at the crime but keeps up her brisk pace, too scared to see if there is judgement in Alex’s eyes. Alex has read the case files, she must know that they should’ve got him the first time. That night she hits her usual haunt, but something stops her from following through. She goes home alone, vodka sitting heavy in her gut.
She knows that she needs to get a grip on herself, she knows she needs to pull back. Her head knows that all too well. But it’s her heart that makes her leave a conversation in mid-sentence to run after Alex to talk about something inconsequential, just so that she can hear her voice. She knows she’s setting herself up for a fall. She only hopes that she’s strong enough to pick herself back up from it.
END
[1] The Cabots, in fact, were not on the Mayflower. They settled in Salem, Massachussets quite a bit later than the Mayflower’s arrival.
[2] "Boston Toast" by John Collins Bossidy
"And this is good old Boston,
The home of the bean and the cod,
Where the Lowells talk to the Cabots,
And the Cabots talk only to God."
AUTHOR: Angie
DISTRIBUTION: Feel free to take this, just let me know where it's gone.
FANDOM: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit
PAIRING: Alex/Olivia
SUMMARY: First four eps of S2 from Olivia's POV as she struggles with her feelings.
RATING: R-ish
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.
WORD COUNT: 1,401
AUTHOR'S NOTES: OK, these might be longer than the actual fic. This is a Companion piece to Reasonable Doubt by
faithinthepoor. Her piece covered the first four episodes of Season 2 from Alex's POV, and at andrus_dark's suggestion, this one covers them from Olivia's POV. Our plan is to turn this into a series covering the whole of season 2. Just a little warning, faithinthepoor loves the angst, therefore, the tone of this piece is very different from the series I have been posting here. She sometimes wonders why she stays with the unit. There are easier gigs than SVU. She imagines a world where she doesn’t have to hear about foster fathers who abuse their sons, or watch rapists walk free, smiling at their victims. Other people don’t have to go through that day after day. Or relive it night after night, unable to sleep for memories of the countless damaged people they encounter. Why does she do it?
She tells herself repeatedly that it is not about him. It isn’t some misplaced penance, atonement for the sins of the father. She wants to help people who have been subjected to cruelty, in whatever form. So if anything, her choice of profession was influenced by her mother. Certainly not by him. She wouldn’t give him that much power. She won’t become something because of him.
The child of rape. The clichéd man-hating cop. That’s not her. He doesn’t hold that much sway over her life. She likes men. Always has.
As a teenager she went for older men. Unobtainable, sometimes married, men that she could look up to and admire. She would fantasise about them telling her they loved her, that she was beautiful, that they were proud of her. She would sleep with them, longing for comfort, reassurance that he hadn’t fucked her up beyond repair. But it didn’t come. The experiences left her feeling empty, used.
Later, she would go out to bars and screw nameless men, their faces often blurred by alcohol. They rarely stayed the night and she didn’t care. She wasn’t looking for a relationship. Her job wouldn’t allow her to sustain one. She wasn’t looking for ‘the one’. She just needed to prove to herself that she liked it. She liked dick.
But though she denies it, even to herself, her body betrays her. She cannot stop it from reacting to soft curves and full-lips. She curses herself every time she realises she’s looking just a little too long, breathing just a little too fast. She buried the feelings deep down inside her long ago. Man-hating dyke cop? No way in hell is he going to turn her into that.
Then the new ADA shows up and her carefully constructed persona starts to crack. The physical attraction was immediate and undeniable. But she’s used to that. She can cope with that. It’s always been easy enough to ignore or to put it down to ‘admiration’. But this time…She tries to keep her opinions professional. To only evaluate Alex’s abilities in the courtroom. But somehow she keeps noticing her eyes, her legs, her voice.
It was all too quick, everything happening at once. Elliot was under investigation, at risk of losing his job. Monique chained to her desk, her job also hanging in the balance. And Alex.
When Alex was assigned to SVU, Olivia focussed her attention on Elliot’s situation and on the case and avoided speaking to the ADA more than necessary. Elliot didn’t like her, he made no secret of it. Alex had made some remarks about the Morris Commission’s investigation on him that he didn’t much care for. He thought she was a stuck-up, blue-blooded princess. Olivia wanted to agree with him. Alex certainly seems of higher-stock than the rest of them. Probably had ancestors on the Mayflower [1] . Snatches of a poem keep coming to Olivia, something about fish and beans and the Cabots talking to God [2].
Olivia occasionally wonders about her own ancestors. It’s a strange position to be in, not to know where you come from. She looks in the mirror and wonders what her features say about her. Her dark eyes and olive skin could point to Mediterranean lineage. She could just as easily be of Irish descent. Maybe her ancestors were on the Mayflower too, along with the Cabots. She just doesn’t know.
Despite Elliot’s assessment of Alex, Olivia can’t help but admire her. She goes by the book, ensuring that she’s going to get a conviction. Her faith in the law appears unshakeable, but Olivia knows that it is only a matter of time before Alex realises that ‘the law’ is not the be all and end all in SVU. Whether or not a perp goes to jail or gets the needle, their victim still has to live with the effects of their crime, every day for the rest of their lives.
During Michael Goran’s trial, Alex did what she had to do. She prosecuted the crime as the law prescribes. But she showed herself to be a compassionate person, which even Elliot had to admit. Doesn't stop him referring to as her the ‘ice-princess’. Olivia’s first testimony with Alex as prosecutor was an unsettling experience. She didn’t want her evidence to put the kid away, as she knew it would. But being pinned by Alex’s eyes for the entirety of the testimony was far more worrying. Olivia found herself fidgeting, avoiding eye-contact, which she never did in court. Afterwards she went out to a bar, she found a guy to fuck the doubts out of her head. But even as he was pounding gracelessly into her, she could see those blue eyes staring at her like nobody else was in the room.
She starts standing just too close to Alex when they speak, so that she can smell her perfume. She sits on Alex’s desk when she visits her office, portraying an intimacy that only exists in her imagination.
Alex is almost certainly straight. For all Olivia knows, she has a boyfriend, a fiancé, a husband. Or all of the above. They are not the kind of colleagues who have shared these details with each other. Olivia wants to ask, to confirm it in her own head so that she can begin to repress her feelings. But something prevents her from doing so. She has plenty of opportunity during the Cleary trial, she’s practically taken up residence in Alex’s office. She almost voices the question on a number of occasions; over coffee, waiting around for the case to be called. But she doesn’t. Part of her doesn’t want to know. The part of her she denies the existence of. Alex is making it harder to do that.
Olivia consoles herself with the certainty that Alex won’t last long in SVU. The revulsion on her face as she looks down on the body of Kenneth Cleary speaks volumes. The reality of what they do will sink in sooner rather than later and she’ll move on to something safer, where she doesn’t have to see the perversions of New York’s citizens. Or rapists with their brains seeping into the wooden flooring of well-to-do houses.
Olivia walks out of the Cleary’s house, needing the fresh air, needing to get away from that look on Harper’s face. If they’d nailed the guy the first time around, Harper would’ve had a different life. One that didn’t include turning herself into a crazed stalker. And a murderer. A murderer without remorse. Olivia has killed people; twisted, evil people. But every time it happens, she feels physically sick afterwards. That smile on Harper’s face elicits a similar feeling in her stomach, as if she’d pulled the trigger herself. Her failings had turned a woman into a cold-blooded killer. And she’d have to live with that.
Outside she sees Alex standing alone. Their eyes meet and Olivia’s game face slips into place. She won’t let the ADA see how this affects her. She can’t afford to let her in now. She nods in acknowledgement of their shared disgust at the crime but keeps up her brisk pace, too scared to see if there is judgement in Alex’s eyes. Alex has read the case files, she must know that they should’ve got him the first time. That night she hits her usual haunt, but something stops her from following through. She goes home alone, vodka sitting heavy in her gut.
She knows that she needs to get a grip on herself, she knows she needs to pull back. Her head knows that all too well. But it’s her heart that makes her leave a conversation in mid-sentence to run after Alex to talk about something inconsequential, just so that she can hear her voice. She knows she’s setting herself up for a fall. She only hopes that she’s strong enough to pick herself back up from it.
END
[1] The Cabots, in fact, were not on the Mayflower. They settled in Salem, Massachussets quite a bit later than the Mayflower’s arrival.
[2] "Boston Toast" by John Collins Bossidy
"And this is good old Boston,
The home of the bean and the cod,
Where the Lowells talk to the Cabots,
And the Cabots talk only to God."