#i'm glad to have had the chance to do a little digging and confirm the details

[fictionadventurer]

@story-courty I can corroborate! Edwin Booth, elder brother of John Wilkes and the man considered possibly the greatest actor of the nineteenth century, saved Robert Todd Lincoln from falling from a train platform in Jersey City, New Jersey. We don't know the exact date of the incident, but it most likely occurred sometime in 1863 or 1864, when Robert was returning to Washington from Harvard, and Booth was going to Richmond with John T. Ford, owner of (believe it or not) Ford's Theater.

The Library of Congress website provides a link to the April 26, 1865 edition of the Cleveland Morning Leader that tells the story like this.

Not a month since, Mr. Edwin Booth was proceeding to Washington. At Trenton, there was a general scramble to reach the cars, which had started, leaving many behind in the refreshment saloon. Mr. Edwin Booth was preceded by a gentleman whose foot slipped as he was stepping upon the platform, and who would have fallen at once beneath the wheels had not Mr. Edwin Booth's arm sustained him. The gentleman remarked that he had had a narrow escape of his life, and was thankful to his preserver. It was Robert Lincoln, the son that that great, good man who now lies dead before our blistered eyes, and whose name we cannot mention without choking. In some way the incident came to the knowledge of Lieutenant General Grant, who at once wrote a civil letter to Mr. Edwin Booth, and said that if he could serve him at any time he would be glad to do so. Mr. Booth replied, playfully, that when he (Grant) was in Richmond, he would like to play for him there.

Robert Lincoln confirmed the story for the Century Magazine in 1909. (Possibly as part of nationwide centennial celebrations of Abraham Lincoln's birth).

The incident occurred while a group of passengers were late at night purchasing their sleeping car places from the conductor who stood on the station platform at the entrance of the car. The platform was about the height of the car floor, and there was of course a narrow space between the platform and the car body. There was some crowding, and I happened to be pressed by it against the car body while waiting my turn. In this situation the train began to move, and by the motion I was twisted off my feet, and had dropped somewhat, with feet downward, into the open space, and was personally helpless, when my coat collar was vigorously seized and I was quickly pulled up and out to a secure footing on the platform. Upon turning to thank my rescuer I saw it was Edwin Booth, whose face was of course well known to me, and I expressed my gratitude to him, and in doing so, called him by name.

Edwin Booth didn't know the name of the man he'd saved until 1865, when Adam Badeau, another officer on Grant's staff who Lincoln had told the story to, wrote him a letter about it. Booth was a staunch Unionist and admirer of Abraham Lincoln, and he'd been feuding with his younger brother for years because of his Confederate sympathies. The news of the assassination devastated him, and he later told a friend that one of the only things that got him through those dark months afterward was the knowledge that he'd saved Robert's life. People initially thought that the Booth name was too blackened for Edwin to continue his career in acting, but he made a triumphant return to the stage in 1866 for a performance of Hamlet that got rave reviews, and eventually opened his own theater and went on a worldwide tour.

I can't fail to mention that this is only one of the coincidences regarding presidential assassinations in Robert Todd Lincoln's life, because he is the only man to have been present at events surrounding three of the four assassinations of American presidents. He was present at his father's deathbed after the assassination (though he wasn't at the theater and always regretted it, because he would have been sitting at the back of the box between Booth and his father). In 1881, he served as Secretary of War under President James Garfield, and was with him at the train station when he was shot by a crazed office-seeker. Robert secured the services of the doctor who had cared for Abraham Lincoln--though, unfortunately, this doctor's overzealous methods, insistence on his own theories, and refusal to follow antiseptic practices caused the infection that actually killed Garfield more than two months later. In 1901, Robert Lincoln was working as president of the Pullman Palace Car Company when President William McKinley invited him to the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, New York where McKinley was making an appearance. At the same time Lincoln's train pulled in to the station, McKinley was shot by an assassin who'd joined the receiving line to meet him. Lincoln immediately went to the hospital to visit the injured McKinley, who died six days later.

Robert Lincoln was a major figure in the Republican Party whose name was often mentioned as a presidential candidate, but Robert never pursued the office, for what should be obvious reasons.

This blog from the U.S. National Archives sums up the situation well.

When Theodore Roosevelt assumed the Presidency, Lincoln wrote him. “I do not congratulate you for I have seen too much of the seamy side of the Presidential Robe to think of it as a desirable garment.” Later, he was invited to the White House as a figurehead of the Republican Party. He declined and swore he would never step foot in the White House again. “I am not going and they’d better not invite me,” he said, “because there is a certain fatality about presidential functions when I am present.”

[straydawg-writing]

𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖙-𝖒𝖊-𝖓𝖔𝖙

ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ ᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ.

• bungo stray dogs series

chapter 3: 𝖉𝖆𝖋𝖋𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖑 — 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌

✥ ⊱ ────── ♔ ────── ⊰ ✥

┊       ┊      ┊   ┊    ┊       

┊       ┊      ┊ ✫   ˚✩

┊       ┊      ✫

┊       ┊      

┊ ⊹     ☪︎⋆

✯ ⋆ 

˚✩

"COME IN."

it nearly took all of kita's might to push open the monstrous gothic-styled doors of the boss' office. as of late, mori had been assigning her more and more tasks that she readily accepted. she had nothing else to do, no other reason to live, except for dedicating herself to the port mafia.

daylight emanated from a long wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, brightening up the dark space and shining on the royal maroon carpet. ahead of her sat the boss, in all of his dignity and glory.

"you called?" kita began, standing tall when she spoke.

mori was not a man she wanted to appear frail in front of. kita was confident she would win over his trust and respect in due time, and was determined not to waste the chance he had given her when he had taken her in. as a woman in the port mafia, she had to work harder than anyone else to be taken seriously. many believed that she didn't belong there, but she was okay with that. after all, kita had no intention of being mixed with juvenile delinquent men.

"you did well on your last job. but of course, you know that i can't have you rest and let that eager spirit rot away."

"i'd expect that, boss. what did you have in mind?" kita asked, twiling a strand of black hair between her fingers.

"this job involves retrieving the marcello family's confidential files. they've attempted hiding a business of money laundering despite our... how should i say this? our 'small' warning example. the mission should be easy enough."

the sound of tall double doors parting open echoed throughout the room and interrupted kita's response. she felt the presence of someone else coming in, stopping only when they were right next to her.

"hey, boss."

"nice to see you dazai," mori greeted the boy, intertwining his hands and resting them on his desk.

dazai was here. why did she suddenly feel butterflies, when not even meeting the port mafia boss stirred nerves like these within her?

"i don't understand. if the mission is so easy, what is he doing here?" kita glanced his way, startled when she saw him staring back.

"did i forget to mention? although just one person is needed to steal the item, this mission requires two people. the marcello family enjoys their parties. you'll be infiltrating their next one, as an unsuspecting couple."

everything slowed down. kita was sure she misheard, mori's last words hanging on his lips and repeating in her mind like a mantra. go as a couple?

you could ask her to kill an army of men and it would be simpler than this. she had only just met him last night –no– it would be easier if she didn't know him at all.

"is that agreeable with you, kita?"

it wasn't like she had a choice, a job was an order in disguise. mori had that same look on his face that he pulled whenever he was picking out a new babydoll dress for elise. the man was up to something, and she wasn't sure how to feel.

"sounds good to me!" dazai answered for her, shoving his hands in his pockets.

then it was settled. looking towards the bandaged boy, kita shook off her wariness and cracked a smile. she wouldn't mind getting to know him better.

"alright. how bad could it be?"

-

kita's mirror reflection stared back at her, beauteous and sweet. a silk black dress hung daintily on her hips, and a laced corset traced her curves. ringlets of jet-black hair spilled over her collarbones, the midnight shades creating a striking contrast with her ivory pearl skin that was spellbinding. she sighed as she closed the drawer which held her lipstick. despite her natural desire to stand out in a crowd, kita knew that tonight she would be dressing to blend in. still, she couldn't help but ask herself in the back of her mind if she was dressing to impress.

'it's just a mission. just a mission. just a mission,' she told herself as she twisted open the doorknob of her room. little did she expect to see the man himself, standing right outside of her bedroom door.

"how long have you been standing there?" she rested her hand on her hip, pursing her lips.

"from my perspective, it looks like you were the one waiting for me to get here," dazai said, holding out a single red camellia flower.

"'you're a flame in my heart', huh?" kita observed, taking the flower in her pale hands.

"is that a confession?" he asked, with a cheeky grin.

oh, so he's a flirt.

"that's just what the flower means, stupid."

she took this chance to take in the sight of him. his hair was the same as always –tousled chocolate locks falling over his sweetly intense brown eyes– and you were glad he hadn't changed it. dazai's usual bandages were covered up by the sleeves of his black slate tux. the suit looked made for him, fitting his body perfectly in every crevice. you had to admit, dazai looked a little bit handsome.

"i know, i asked chuuya. who knew he spoke flowers too? although... he did try starting a fight in the middle of the courtyard, calling me an 'enemy of all women,'" dazai pouted, making finger quotations before he quickly changed moods again. it was something she had noticed he seemed to do often. his playful eyes were now dripping with a more flirtatious undertone.

"the boss ordered us to personate two fiances madly in love. so... let's play the part, shall we?" dazai mischievously bowed down to her height, gently taking kita's small hand in his and leaving a kiss on her smooth skin. he knew he had caught her in his trap- she couldn't argue with the boss himself.

kita let out a small exhale, interlacing his hands with her own.

"fine, you win. but drop the 'madly in love.'."

-

"mr. and mrs. iwazaki-to-be?" the doorman asked for confirmation, with a paper and quill to cross off guest names.

"that's us!" dazai enthusiastically expressed with an arm around kita, placing a kiss on her temple to sell the act.

the doorman, who seemed to be in his late sixties, looked up from his paper and sent the pair a warming smile.

"i miss my girl every day... congratulations." he held up his ring finger to show them, and motioned for them to join the party. "enjoy the night!"

the pair entered the party through a towering marbled creme archway. space had opened up to accommodate a grand scene of painted people with most likely debatable motives, drinking from their champagne glasses and dancing to a luxurious orchestra. a waft of expensive colognes and perfumes flooded their senses. it smelt like the rich. businessmen stroke deals, wives exchanged the newest slice of gossip, and old men watched from the sidelines, whistling for girls in their royal dresses of all colors.

kita suddenly developed an appreciation for not having come alone. the fake engagement ring decorating her ring finger marked her as claimed. in other words: kept the old, perverted, corrupted politicians away. not as if she couldn't beat them to a pulp if need be.

a large marble staircase that matched the entrance winded the perimeter of the main floor, leading up to the room which held their files. but for now, their foremost concern was appearing ordinary, becoming like everybody else of the night. to play the part of the happy-go-lucky-couple-in-love.

the boss had asked her first. this was her mission.

grabbing dazai by the chin who was distracted by the red-velvet cupcakes on display, kita turned his face down to look at her.

"dance with me."

"okey. but yowr sqwuisching mey fasce," dazai replied, face indeed squished as his lips were forced into a pout. she let go with a grin, satisfied with his response.

maneuvering through men in studded suits and women in extravagant dresses that took up half of the floor, a new waltz had begun by the time she pulled him onto the dance floor with her.

"i forgot to tell you earlier, but you clean up really nicely, dazai." kita commented, her arms loosely tangled around his neck.

they turned elegantly, in tune with the slow music, and standing closer than ever before. kita could feel his breath on her skin as he held her waist. this close to him, his natural scent was intoxicating. he was rich, like caramel. a breath of fresh air from the sea of headache-inducing colognes. if by the end of this dance, her breath was taken away, she would know why.

"you look... irresistible," dazai's eyes widened slightly. he kept his attention on her as he whimsically guided the girl across the dance floor, taking her anywhere he pleased– and she let him. no matter what dazai did, he always had the same fanciful air about him. even now, she felt he was taking her into a dream.

the warmth between them continued to increase, along with their rising heartbeats, until the song had faded into the distance and the only thing that mattered was their steps in sync, their breathing one.

'it's all an act.'

"let's find a room upstairs," he whispered in her ear, pulling her out of the crowd and up the staircase once the song had ended.

any guests attending the event were too engrossed in their own party and pleasure to notice them disappear. from where kita stood, she could see them all dancing like porcelain dolls in a make-believe show.

"this one." dazai pointed, opening a door with a plaque that read, 'j. marcello's office.'

time was of the essence, and yet dazai didn't seem the least bit concerned as he strolled over to the mahogany desk that sat underneath a window. he opened one drawer in particular with a mass of cigarettes the owner had never bothered throwing out, and tossed them all into the trash can.

"if he wants to meet his end with an insufferable death, this'll do it." dazai tsked and shook his head as he tossed another one behind him and scored. "couldn't ever be me..."

"don't you think he'll notice?"

"he'll also notice when his papers are gone. i'm simply doing him a favor~" dazai chuckled.

kita was digging through files and trying to distract herself from the taller male as much as possible, ever since the dance they shared so intimately lingered in her mind. she was so distracted that she didn't hear the sudden sound of a door opening, and just as quickly as the door opened, she had been pulled into dazai's embrace and leaned over the desk.

his soft lips crashed into hers, causing an obvious expression of surpise as she felt his warm hands riding up the side of her face, the other arm leaning on the desk behind her and trapping her underneath him– but she guessed it was only to give the mysterious person the wrong idea.

she only hesitated for a moment before kissing him back, going along with the act as she pulled on his tie to regain her balance. the kiss barely lasted about five seconds, but to kita it felt like an eternity. his kiss was so sudden she had already ran out of breath and was running on nothing at all but his own oxygen.

"s-sorry! you can't be in here!" an embarrassed voice called out, shutting the door as soon as it had opened.

when the door had closed, dazai swiftly released his hold on her.

"all that and still no files," he sighed, scratching his head.

"you sure about that?" kita smirked, running her tongue over the lingering taste of sugar-coated lips. peaking from behind her back was a folder that she had stolen from the drawer's hidden compartment.

"kita! oh i could kiss you," dazai's mouth opened in childish awe. if this were an animation, his eyes would have sparkled.

"you already did. guess you couldn't resist huh?"

"aren't you the one who kissed me back?" he raised an eyebrow.

"touché," she clicked her tongue, rolling the folder and hiding it in her bra while walking out of the room with dazai in tow.

"wow, you can fit that in there?" he pondered out loud.

"of course i ca-" she began, before being cut off by a horde of men in black suits, guns pointed.

"IT'S THEM! don't even TRY letting them escape," a voice boomed, with a round of gunshots firing all around them soon after.

kita sighed, uninterested in the new turn of events. she could use her ability now, but it wasn't worth it. they had gotten what they came for, so whatever happened now was of no concern to her. dazai slowly turned around, eyes coming to an emotionless standstill as he allowed the bullets their chance to plunge into him, but always missing.

"geez, your aim sucks." kita stated, pulling her own knife out of a leg garter that hid underneath her dress and sending it piercing through the cheeks of a full line of men.

they dropped, guns casting across the floor. dazai blankly considered them before picking one up for himself.

"i hope you don't mind if i borrow this," he drawled, flipping it over in his hands before stretching out his arm in front of him and shooting the men left. he aimed to kill.

with that taken care of, kita bent down and plucked her knife out of the unfortunate victim's flesh. she wiped it off on the fabric of her black dress.

"p-please. don't kill me," the timid cry of a sole survivor pleaded for his life.

he was bowed to the ground, blood seeping through his suit and making it an impossibly darker shade of vantablack. what a shame he still lived.

with one look from dazai who lazily reached a hand for a crimson-red cupcake, he aimed and shot with the other.

the party was all but dead now.

in the midst of the bloodbath, dazai had taken a bite out of the dessert, and now white frosting dusted the tip of his nose like snowflakes. using her thumb, kita wiped the icing away and licked the sweetness off of her finger.

"hey!"

"you took too long to eat it!" she explained after stealing the cupcake away from him, eating the rest of it as as they stepped out from the bloodied marble walls and into the black of the darkened night.

｡✣✤✥━━━━━━━━━━━━✥✤✣｡

❝𝙰𝙿𝙾𝙲𝙾𝙻𝚈𝙿𝚂𝙴❞

1:05  ──♡────── 2:53

|◁              II             ▷|

— ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴘꜱ, ᴍʏ ʟɪᴘꜱ, ᴀᴘᴏᴄᴀʟʏᴘꜱᴇ

ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴘꜱ, ᴍʏ ʟɪᴘꜱ, ᴀᴘᴏᴄᴀʟʏᴘꜱᴇ

｡✣✤✥━━━━━━━━━━━━✥✤✣｡

[maroonmorons]

Not sure if this is fluffy enough but: the team being on a call/hanging out together & buck (accidentally/on purpose) getting punched in the face. He gets a nose bleed/ busted lip & everyone is like super worried cuz blood thinners, especially eddie who coddles him a lot, & buck pretends to be a bit miffed at first, like guys i'm fine!!, but he's actually super happy & feeling loved cuz his family still loves him even after all that shit went down. HE'S A CINNAMON ROLL THAT DESERVES ALL THE LOVE

sorry if my heart a little slow [buck/eddie, T, 1.8k]

The thing is – once they’ve had decent calls for severalshifts in a row Buck forgets how quickly a call can go bad.

They didn’t even have to lose someone on the call for it togo bad.

No, instead the call just had to start moving too quicklyfor them to be able to keep up with it.

Tonight it’s a four car pile up thanks to a drunk driverswerving into oncoming traffic. Luckily no one is DOA on the scene. Theambulance has already left with the mother and son who were in the first carstruck.

That leaves their crew to deal with everyone else, includingthe drunk driver.

Buck thought the drunk driver was secure – well the trick tothat was that the drunk driver had been secure. Until the assholeregained consciousness.

He was belligerent immediately, shoving Madison off andtrying to climb to his feet.

Eddie and Buck look over in the same second but Eddie getsthe jump, roughly two feet closer than Buck is.

Trying to stuff his concern down somewhere below his gut,Buck turns back to the middle aged man he’s treating. He applies anotherbutterfly bandage to the man’s split brow.

Behind him he hears a solid blow and then a body falling tothe ground.

Madison screams and Buck can feel it happening.

Like a projector just getting warmed up - click, click,clickclickclick; the call starts moving too fast.

By the time he’s whipped his head around Eddie’s on theground, one hand on his jaw.

The drunk absolutely looms over him, looking eight feet tallin Buck’s eyes.  

Buck might as well be in quicksand.

He remembers enough to look back to the man he’s treating.

           “I’m gonna-”

The man waves him off immediately. There’s a deep frown onhis face but Buck knows it’s not directed at him or any of their crew.

Buck shoves back to his feet, glad to see Eddie’s regainedhis feet as well.

Still, it’s one of those nightmares Buck has routinely. He’smoving but not fast enough. He can’t move nearly fast enough to keep up withthis call.

The drunk swings again and Eddie ducks, leaning down tothrow his arms around the guy’s middle and try to take him to the ground.

Sadly, the key word there is try.

Buck knows Eddie can handle himself. The man was street fightingin his free time for fuck’s sakes.

This dude however is tall and truly thick all the way downhis body. He’s got to be over six feet and at least three hundred pounds.

The alcohol his parietal lobe is currently soaking inprobably doesn’t hurt his chances in a fight either.

Buck finally gets over to them, bless his long legs, and launcheshimself at the guy too.

The drunk just grunts in response; he feels as movable as abrick wall.

           “Can one ofthe cops get over here,” Eddie grunts, the toes of his boots still digging intothe asphalt. “Maybe with a taser?”

           “I-I’m on it,”Madison manages.

Buck stands, rearranging himself. Maybe attacking the centerof gravity is the problem. He wraps his left arm over the drunk’s shoulder,bringing his forearms together behind the broad back to get a good grip. With agrunt of his own, Buck shoves his shoulder into the drunk and tries to topplehim.

After a moment the drunk wavers and Buck redoubles hisefforts, adrenaline pumping steadily through his heart.

But instead of falling back, the drunk just tilts over tothe side. He brings up the arm Buck isn’t wrapped around to shove at Buck.

It barely takes fifteen seconds for the guy to successfullydislodge Buck and send him stumbling off the edge of the road.

Buck’s not exactly angry, nor is he exactly embarrassed.

He catches himself in the dusty silt and turns on one heel.

Unfortunately, he’s in such a rush to get back to help Eddiehe doesn’t think about the fact that he had stumbled off the road.

The toe of his right boot catches on the edge of the asphalt.He’s got too much momentum built up already – or maybe it’s the fact that hisleft leg is just that much slower than the rest of him – but in any case hefalls face first onto the road.

It happens too quickly for him to even put out his arms. Ifhe’d been watching it happen Buck might have even laughed.

But his face catches most of his fall, first his nose andthen his chin.

           “Buck!”Bobby yells.

I’m fine, Buck wants to say. He tries to push himselfup, unsurprised to feel hands on his shoulders already helping him.

           “¡Dios mío!Are you alright, Buck?” Eddie demands.

           “I’m fine,”Buck does say then. “Where’s the drunk? Is he down?”

           “The copsare taking care of him,” Eddie says. He clicks his tongue in disapproval as heturns Buck’s face carefully from side to side.

Buck realizes his face is wet then.

           “Is itbroken?”

           “Might be,”Eddie says tightly. “Come on, let’s get you up.”

Bobby and Madison are already crowding close enough to brushagainst Buck’s shoulders on either side of Eddie.

           “Are youokay, Buck? I’m so sorry I didn’t have the guy.”

           “Madison,what? No one could have had that guy, it’s not your fault.”

           “It’s noone’s fault,” Bobby agrees. “We’re just lucky the cops were here with theirtasers. The 121 is arriving on scene. Madison, let’s go help them. Eddie, areyou good to get Buck cleaned up?”

           “I’ve gothim,” Eddie confirms.

           “I’m okay,”Buck protests. “Eddie’s the one that got punched in the face.”

           “Eddie’snot the one on blood thinners.”

Damn blood thinners.

…

Peculiarly, things only seem to get worse once they get backto the station.

Hen all but runs to Buck’s side.

           “Buckaroo!Are you okay?” She’s already reaching up gently to tilt his face into betterlight. “Are you sure you don’t need the hospital?”

           “Hen, I’mokay, I promise. My nose isn’t even broken. Everything stopped bleeding andEddie bandaged my jaw up. It’s not even going to scar. Probably.”

Chim’s joined them by then, squeezing Buck’s shoulder firmly.

           “Our residentdaredevil,” he says. There’s a certain amount of fondness in his tone and itmakes Buck feel like blushing. “Are you okay though?”

           “Guys, I’mfine.”

           “You’re notjust saying that?” Hen double checks. “You know you’re not gonna get benchedjust for a minor injury right?”

           “We justwant you to be okay,” Chim agrees immediately.

           “I promiseI’m okay,” Buck reaffirms.

He feels like one of those little baby dolls with a stringin its back – just repeating the same thing over and over again.

“Eddie’s the one that got punched in the face,” he adds. “AndCap cleared me. I’m all good.”

           “Eddie’sfine,” Hen dismisses, even rolling her eyes.

           “Dude wasstreet fighting for fun,” Chim reminds Buck.

           “C’monguys,” Buck whines, “I’m alright.”

           “Good,” Hensays with a decisive nod.

           “Is dinneralmost ready?” Chim questions as he starts toward the stairs. “I’m starving.”

Hen makes no move to join him.

           “I’ll meetyou guys up there,” Buck tells her gently. “Gotta finish up down here.”

But Hen just shakes her head.

           “I’ll doit. Go help set the table – or just sit down. You can’t hold the whole world onyour shoulders, Buck. Honestly.”

           “But I’m-”

           “I know youare.”

           “C’mon Hen.”Buck whines quietly. “I don’t want you guys thinking I’m weak.”

           “No one herethinks you’re weak, Evan. We just want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

Hen’s eyes are impossibly warm as she looks directly intohis and Buck feels about four feet tall under the weight of her words.

Seemingly unaware of his internal conflict, she continues.

“Because we love you.”

It’s not as if Buck doesn’t know that. He does.

Still, he feels shaken to hear Hen say it directly to him.

His stubbornness abandons him like the tide going out andBuck manages a tiny smile.

           “Okay,” heagrees on a whisper. “I love you too.”

Hen hugs him again before giving him a gentle push backtoward the stairs.

…

While Buck had been allowed to help set the table he’sforbidden from cooking or from helping clean up.

Instead, he’s settled (forcibly) on one of the sofas withEddie.

Eddie even slings both socked feet into Buck’s lap as if tokeep him from getting up any time soon.

His jaw is already starting to bruise but he doesn’t seemconcerned over it and neither does anyone else in the station.

           “How’s yourjaw?” Buck questions.

           “How’s yourjaw?”

           “I’m fine,”Buck stresses. “F, I, N, E – fine.”

           “Well, I’vebeen hit harder. I’m fine too.”

           “Don’tremind me,” Buck grumbles.

After a moment of tense silence, he forces himself to lookon the bright side.

“At least my nose isn’t broken. I don’t think my Owen Wilsonimpression is any good.”

Eddie arches a dark eyebrow.

           “Why wouldyou need to do an Owen Wilson impression?”

           “How elseam I gonna find someone to marry me with a fucked up face?”

Eddie huffs.

           “Shut up,Buck.”

Buck pouts.

           “What? Peopleare fine with hooking up with me but it’s not like anyone wants more. I can’tget any uglier Eddie, I’ll die with twenty four cats.”

           “Anyuglier?” Eddie demands, his voice growing much louder than the conversation warrants.“What are you talking about, Buck? You’re at least a ten. At least.”

           “Okay,first of all – you have to say that because you’re my best friend. Secondly, Idon’t know if the opinion of a straight man is worth that much to my ego; even thoughI appreciate it. Thirdly, once I’m old and retired you’re gonna have to call meevery two days to make sure the cats aren’t eating my eyeballs.”

Eddie’s mouth moves with no sound coming out for several seconds.

           “I probablyshouldn’t say that because you’re my best friend,” he finally settles on. “AndI’m not straight.”

He frowns then, as if deciding whether or not to tackle theeyeball statement.

Buck takes pity on him.

           “They’d bestarving, Eddie. Everyone knows they eat the eyeballs first because they’reeasy to get to and squishy or whatever. It wouldn’t be their fault. But, I wantan open casket so you need to make sure they aren’t chowing down, alright?”

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes andmuttering under his breath in Spanish.

           “Why don’twe just get married in ten years if we’re both still single?” he asks after blowingout a large breath.

           “Well,sure, but there’s no way you’re still gonna be single in ten-” Buck cutsoff, blinking twice. “You’re not straight?”

Eddie pulls the throw pillow out from behind his back andpulls it over his face with both hands.

“Eddie, you’re not straight?!”

[har-rison-s]

Tiny Dancer - Five

A/N: Hope whoever's reading this is enjoying it. Personally, 40s Bucky is so sdnfsjfh cute, I can't. I try to write him as good and accurate as possible. English isn't my first language, so squint your eyes for any grammar mistakes/misspelling. Happy reading!

This is getting a little hard to write now. I hadn't calculated what writing this all out means.

The funeral was arranged by... someone, I don't know, I took the first company that came my way, I didn't really want anything to do with it. My father's death. If only I had any other relatives, except for my dad's brother who I rarely met, who could settle this all instead of me. 

My heritage had been confirmed. I had gained not only money from my father, but also his place in the family company. He produced musical instruments - guitars, violins, microphones, etc. And now I got his role - the owner - in it. I was somehow delighted for the first time since his death. I had the hands to do anything I wanted to. 

I actually still own the company, and I’m trying to change my employeés every time I change a city to live in. They never want to leave, and I know why, I perfectly understand. The money's good, you get bonus gifts and even failed-to-finish musical instruments and parts of them, everyone's nice to each other and the boss (me) is the best boss you could wish for. But it's crucial every few years. I could never tell anyone my secret, God knows what would happen. No one, absolutely no one, can know about my true nature and... fate, I guess. Forbidden.

I'm not even the front-woman of my father's and my company. It's my secretary. A woman who was born in 1920 and has been my secretary since I was... back from HYDRA, totally back. It was around the fourties, I think? Anyway...

Our house was empty since my father died. 

Silent. I hated it. I hated silence, always have. And it became my daily companion. Soon after I got so irritated and angry that I bought a radio, and I turned it on everytime I was home, or home alone, at that. I wasn’t exactly satisfied with what the programmes were giving me in terms of music, but as a silence-repellent, it worked very well.

Sixteen, owning a company, a house, attending school, dancing ballet in operas and living in a house alone. Mother died at giving birth, and father committed suicide, no other relatives known. Quite the package, wasn’t I? And to be alone in my pain and burdens was not easy to live with. Horrible to bear it.

I offered Steve to live in my house with me, so he nor I would live alone. I hated coming home to nobody, no one, nobody making any noise. When my father was around, he wasn’t making that much noise, but at least there was a sense of life in the house. And Steve was all alone too, no sisters or brothers and both his parents gone. Just like me. But Steve wouldn’t take up my offer. I asked him why.

“You’re living alone, too.” I say to him softly. We’re sitting on a park bench in the sunlight, still shining in September. We're glad it is, neither of us really miss the crispy winter air and coldness. Summer has been—in weather terms—very kind to us, blessed us with some days of joy at the seaside or Coney Island. 

Currently James is off to get us all ice cream. It's not quite the temperature for ice cream now, but where we are sitting, it feels like you're on a frying pan. And we'll be sitting here for a long time, at least until the sun sets. 

“Why wouldn’t you want to move in? It’s lonely.” I admit. “For the both of us.”

Steve sighs. “I’m certainly not the one you should be choosing to substitute your loneliness with.” He says and looks up at me with a faint smile. I give him one in return before looking down, realising what he means.

“Yeah, you’re right.” I admit. “But if I spend all my time with him, I will get tired of James, won’t I? And where would be the fun in that? I'd just get sick to my stomach if I have to see his face every morning that I wake up.”

We both chuckle. I'm joking, of course, and I think we're both laughing at the joke and the possibility of me getting sick of Bucky. That's where me and Steve meet. Humor. And, in later years, I found that motivational speaking was also a common thing for the both of us. 

“I bet.” He replies. “But I can’t move into your house.” The skinny teen shakes his head, looking down. “I don’t have any money to pay my half of the rent with.”

I roll my eyes in no seriousness and push his shoulder gently. Only slightly, cause I'm afraid if I push too hard, the fellow will just fall off the bench. “You won’t have to, Steve.” I say, leaning closer to him and searching his deep eyes. “The house was bought long ago, we don’t pay rent. Never have.” I state. Steve lets out an inaudible sigh, he knows I'm right and he should agree. “What is it, really? What’s the reason you won’t take my offer?” I ask, leaning back onto the wooden bench. It's already heated up from the few seconds my back wasn't leaning against it. “It’s the least I can do to help you. What if the neighbours find out you’re not eighteen? They’ll call the police and take you to a children’s home, what will you do then?” 

Steve hangs his head low. “Don’t do that, Scarlett.” He says. “That’s… That's emotional blackmail.” I can’t help but laugh at his use of words to describe my helpful offer. 

“No, it’s not!” I defend myself. “I’m trying to help you. Please, take my offer. I will feel hopeless otherwise. And rejected.” I show him fake puppy eyes and Steve only pushes me away.

Steve shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Scarlett.” He says finally and looks up at me. “I won’t do it. You can’t make me.”

I huff and watch his eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. His eyes are sincere and true. Steve doesn’t lie. He’s always true to everyone, even if it hurts. This time ain’t no exception. He’s too good for his own good. And I understand why he won’t take my offer. It wouldn’t feel right. 

”Now, now, Stevie,” we hear Bucky's voice coming from the direction he disappeared into. We turn our heads to see him now with three ice cream ones in his hands instead of empty ones, “don't you go flirting with my girl.” 

I smile at him, taking the vanilla cone from his hand and trying not to be too obvious with the heat tainting my cheeks because of his nickname. My girl. Steve takes his ice cream from James, though the bigger boy challenges his friend a bit first. Steve gives him quite a sorry look and Bucky gives in, letting Steve take the cone.

”It's never too late to try.” Steve jokingly replies to his best friend and all of us laugh warm-heartedly. I try to think of something I could say while we admire and start to dig into our ice creams.

”Actually, you know what, James?” I start to say and he looks at me with raised eyebrows and a light brown brush on his nose. It made me giggle, but I didn't tell him until the very end of the evening that he had mushed his nose into his chocolate ice cream, “I'm gonna have to think our relationship over. Steve's quite the competition.” I say and raise my eyebrows, licking my ice cream. 

The two boys glance between each other, trying to understand if I'm serious or not—since I said it so matter-of-factly that anyone could believe I truly meant those words. But when a snort comes out of my mouth, they know I can't hold back laughing and so we all do. We laugh for such a long time that our stomachs start to hurt and our ice cream has almost melted completely.

Steve was really a righteous person. Never bended to anyone’s will, suffered even if he has a chance not to. What a weirdo, I thought when I first realised it. I was about eleven that time. Why wouldn’t you run from trouble? He was too self-righteous, I guess, never gave up on anything he thought was the right thing to do. He took pride in what he did, never realised that getting beat up in almost every Brooklyn alley wasn't a success. But, I liked his bravery and always admired the not giving up and standing his ground. Always thought that I lacked of those. 

Getting ready for my father’s funeral was no fun at all. I never liked wearing black clothes. They just felt heavy and I felt like they dragged me down. The colour is still dreadful to me. I like soft and light colours, flowery themes, all of that. I always dress that way, blouses, skirts and dresses. But black has never been my style.

I had one, the only one. A black dress with lace all over. It had sparkles, here and there because of the thirties fashion. It was uncomfortable. I mean, the fabric was alright and it wasn’t uncomfortably tighter anywhere. But it was just the porpose of the dress that made me uncomfortable.

My father’s funeral. And funerals in general. I promised myself then that this would be the only funeral I attend until my own. Who knows now if that will ever come around…

I hadn't decided what to do with my hair. Although there was this one hairstyle my classmate was wearing that I thought would be so beautiful with my own hair. She told me how to do it, and I wanted to make it someday for a special occasion. And I did. It was mine and James' first date. And then... when my father's funeral came around, I didn't know what to do with my hair.

I didn't want to leave it free-falling as I usually do, because, well, that's what I usually do. I didn't want to make a ponytail cause that wasn't the fashion then and it would be too casual. Braids... I thought about that. But eventually, at the last moment, I didn't have any other options except the hairstyle of the first date. I really didn't want to make it, because it used to remind me of such beautiful memories and moments and now it would only remind me of grief and death. So I changed it up a little.

Originally, you have to make at least two braids in your hair and then twirl them together and tie them down to the top of your head to make a nest? A bun? But I didn't put it on the top of my head. I put it very low, just where my hair ends. And to me, that made all the difference.

I'm looking at myself in the mirror too much. It's actually something that I never do, mirrors are just for quick check-ups or fashion shows with myself. I don't spend more than five minutes looking at myself in the mirror. 

I’m tugging on the dress everywhere my fingers get to, and it’s unnessecary. The fabric will soon be unusable, stretched and pulled at places. I’m fidgeting. Nervous. Not what I am, not what I'm supposed to be. My shoulders are supposed to be higher, my back more straight than it usually is, chin up and a smile on face. God, I can't do that today, I can't smile. I just... have to survive this one day, I have to be strong. 

The dress looks fine, honestly. If I'd look objectively at it, I'd notice that there's nothing wrong with it, no glitters have fallen off, not one spot looks stretched out. But the dress would look much better untouched, hanging in the closet.

I try to touch up my hair even though it doesn't need touching up. And suddenly the most important pin slips out of the hair bunch on my head and all the others follow suit. It was the last one I put in that held together each previous pin. And now everything's ruined, my hairstyle is falling out. I should have secured everything a bit more strongly. I shouldn't have touched my hair at all... 

I’m gasping as I try to save it all, twisting and turning in a squatting position in front of my mirror. The pins are falling behind me and the twisting around is making em very uncomfortable. My hands are flying all around me to gather the pins but I can’t see them on the dark floor. I let out a loud whimper of despair as I fall down on my bum, and can't help but start to cry. Oh, I hate crying.

“Scarlett?” The door of my room opens and James slips through. His eyes search for me in the room, but he can’t spot me in the far end of my room, behind my bed, actually having a panic attack on the floor in front of my mirror. But once he hears my whimpers and sobs of sadness, he spots me and rushes over.

James is wearing a nice, dark suit. He looks lovely, the complete opposite of me. His hair is pushed back with the help of some gel, but as he bends down to my level, strands of it start to fall out. To me, it looks better and I even want to stop his hand that pushes the fallen strands back in place.

I think of how I look before him now. I have probably cried all my mascara off and it’s running down my cheeks, blended with tears, looking like black, horrid rivers. My hair is a mess, I’ve lost all my pins and I think the heels of my shoes are starting to break. My face is pulled into a scowl because of crying.

“Scarlett.” His soothing voice speaks. I cry harder and he sits down next to me, puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer. “What's wrong, doll?” He asks in such a soothing voice, it almost makes me cry harder. 

“I-I can’t do it. I can't go out there.” I say between cries. “Everything's ruined. My makeup is completely ruined.” I state. At that, James chuckles. 

“That thing don’t matter.” He replies. “We can clean it off.”

“No, I have to have it on.” I protest. “I already put it on for this day and I can’t just leave my face like it is.” James huffs and stands back to his feet and helps me do the same. I lean up again on my wobbly knees and he immediately helps me find balance - one hand on my waist, the other holding my hand. Just like dancing.

“Darlin’, when I tell you that you don’t need that, you listen to me.” James says in a serious tone of voice. He's tipped his head down a bit, looking at me through his lashes. “It’s your father’s funeral day. Everybody already knows how much you're hurt inside, and covering that up with something fabricated is worse. Nobody will even care how you look today. It’s only normal if you look like you’ve cried for weeks.”

His words make sense to me. I don’t hear myself histerically crying anymore, and I'm not breathing rapidly, either. I don’t really know what to say to him, but then my voice speaks before I can come up with words. 

“What about my hair?” I ask. “I’ve… I’ve lost all my hair pins on the floor, and I had such a beautiful hairstyle and now I don’t know how to do it again and—“ My breaths start to pick up their pace again.

“Scarlett, it's alright.” James stops me. “Your hair is beautiful, look,” he takes a strand that's fallen over my shoulder and raises it up so I can see it, “you have the most beautiful hair in New York, and in the world, I'm sure. Look at the waves, look at how it's curled from the braiding.” There's a hopeful smile on his features and it makes my lip quiver. How do I deserve this? “I can take out all the otha' pins and you'll go with your hair like it is.”

"But I had such a beautiful hairstyle, I have to make it again, it was—”

“Almost the one you had on our date, yes, I know.” James nods and I look at him. He really remembers? “It's alright, doll, you can make it tomorrow and the day after and for the rest of your life. But you can forget about it now, alright?” His eyes ask the question, as well. “And you are in no state to clean your own face. I’ll do it for you.”

So he sat me down on my bathroom counter and cleaned my ugly mascara off. I didn’t speak while he did, and I didn’t feel like I should have spoken. Who knows what I was supposed to do then.

James takes one of the small white towels I leave in my bathroom cabinet and wettens it with water. I watch his hands as they come up to my cheeks and then my eyes divert to his. He'd never helped me in such a feminine way before. And I was so glad that he was the one cleaning my face.

His eyes showed such determination. And his hands were soft, his movements were slow and gentle, his touch was caring. I wouldn't have touched my face like that. I would've rushed it all, practically beaten my cheeks and left them in a splotchy red color. But James was much more gentle and careful with my skin, since it wasn't his. I guess everyone's much more careful with what isn't theirs. Maybe most people.

He gives my cheeks and eyelids one last petting with the warm cloth and retracts from me, washing the towel. James leaves it on the surface so it can dry easier and turns back to me. “How are you feeling?” He whispers to me, stroking my cheek with his thumb. I lean into his touch willingly, my eyes closing. I can't really give him an answer. I don't know how I feel, to be honest. “Do you want some water? Water with sugar?” He suggests and I shake my head. 

I reach out to his hand with mine and he lets me pull him closer to me. James looks in my eyes as if asking something, and I only nod. That something was to kiss me. And so he does. And it's slow and gentle and just... calming. Just what I needed. And I feel like doing it forever. 

He lays kisses on both my reddened cheeks and then returns to my lips and then presses a kiss to the very tip of my nose. I giggle, I actually do, and he draws back from me quick enough to catch a glimpse of my smile.

“There's that smile I was looking for.” James tells me and laughs, his whole face lights up with love and warmth and achievement, as well. It's what he was going for - making me smile. I love that about him. 

My arms wrap around his neck and his hold me close by my waist when I let my head fall against his chest. I could fall asleep in this position, and I want to badly. But I have to go out and honor my father in front of people I mostly don't know. His old friends and colleagues. 

I hope to find people I know, or should know. Any relatives I haven't had the chance to meet, maybe? A long-lost sister or cousin? I have to do this, and I can. So I let Bucky help me get off the bathroom counter and put on more comfortable shoes and go out. He walks with me.

What an angel he was. Sometimes I couldn’t believe that he was there, with me, helping me and talking to me. No matter what had happened, James knew what to say. Was there, whatever the situation. Just like he was for Steve. Bucky was our angel. I didn’t think I deserved an angel. Not even now. Although I wish that I had one, either by my side or watching over me.

I don’t know, maybe it’s because he’s always had both parents and three siblings. Maybe that's the reason he was so good to us. He knew how to take care of people, he knew what to say at the right moments. And he hadn't even studied psychology at any point in his life. Now I really can't guess why he was such an emotionally intelligent person. But I guess the family life and experience from it gave him a lot. 

I trusted him to be there for me always, maybe I trusted too much, was asking too much of him. But he never let me down. He always came when I called. And I also wondered how he always had time for everything, for everyone. His family, Steve, school, me, and occasional work. He was perfect in everything. 

And what we had was perfect - the relationship, the remaining friendship between us both and Steve. My life was as perfect as our relationship, despite my father being gone, and I thought it would never end. And it didn't, until right after the funeral. 

My speech was alright. Of course I teared up, and I hated it, I still hate it. I hate crying in front of other people, no matter who they are and if they understand or not. I don’t like being seen vulnerable in the eyes of many. But well, that day… was quite the exception. There were many excuses of why I was crying, and people I didn't even know comforted me (James, of course, outed them), but I still hated it.

I didn't even know half the people that showed up to my father’s funeral and voiced their greatest condolences to me. Not one friendly or familiar face that I had seen. Everyone spoke to me after the ceremony and before the ‘feast’. I think there were a hundred people, in total. 

A while later I found out that the folks I didn’t know were my dad’s colleagues and associates from work, his friends. There were also some of my mom’s friends who I’d never met. They came to talk to me, propose some options about living spaces, offer anything they could. They'd also tell me about my mom, things about her I'd never heard from my dad. They made me even more sad.

“I’m s-sorry, it’s been a… quite a hard day.” I say between sobs. I’m cleaning off my tears with a handkerchief and I feel someone walk up to me from the left. From the grip of their hand on my shoulder I immediately know it’s James. Millie looks at him as I turn my body into his, and Bucky's arms come up around me. My tears wetten his blazer. Weak, I am weak.

“No, I have to apologise. I didn’t mean to sadden you, that was not my intention at all.” Millie says. She’s one of mom’s old friends or best friend, in her words. I have many questions yet to ask her. For example, why did she never visit me or my dad? Why did I never know her?

“What happened?” James asks softly, looking between me and Millie. I sigh.

“This is Millie, one of mother’s friends. Millie, this is James, my, uh, my boyfriend.” i introduce them to each other. “Millie just told me a few things about my mother.” I say and smile at her warmly. My tears are gone, but they’re not far from coming back, either. 

“Oh, I see.” James says and smiles at Millie. “Nice to meet you, even under these drastic measures.” He says and Millie extends her arm towards him, wanting to shake his. But James turns it and places a kiss on her palm. Both me and Millie chuckle. “That’s the right look, princess.” James says to me, cradling the side of my face in his hand gently. I blush slightly and lean into his chest even further.

“Alright, I’ll leave you two.” Millie says. “Bye, love. Take care.” She says, wavering her fingers at us. I wave back and she smiles before walking away, her shoes clicking against the ground as she does.

I also met my father’s parents, which I had never before met in my life. I didn’t know I was missing them until I met them. They were sorry that they hadn't met me before, but explained it as 'difficult family matters' being the reason why. 

Grandmother asked me about the house and I told her I lived alone. At first she was totally against me living completely alone and wanted me to come live with them, in Chicago. But I couldn't yet trust her so well. I couldn't abandon the life I have here, either. Then she sufficed with telling me that if I ever needed anything, anything at all, they’d be there to help and support me. I told her thank you. 

I know you're probably asking why I never offered James to live with me. I should have, oh, I should have. But he had a family he had to take care of. He couldn't just leave them all alone. We joked about bringing them all to live in my house. Well, a joke it was from James, not from me. I gave the thought a lot of seriousness. Later on, years after, we, well, actually, it was only me who decided that Bucky and his family would live in the house. It's big, like a mansion, his little brother had said. “It's a princess palace!” Lizzie, his sister told me when they all arrived.

I guess the mundainity and obviousness of James having a busy family life was the reason why I never offered him to live with me. His family is very important to him, in his case, blood was thicker than water. He always told me stories about his siblings and parents and I could see how much he cared for them. Other families/people wouldn't go the length he did for their families and relatives. 

He was quite the opposite of me, actually, just like Steve. We had both lost our parents now and never had a sibling. Completely alone, used to loneliness. But Bucky had it all - friends and family. Nor me nor Steve can say that we didn't have friends, because we did. He had me and Bucky, and I had him and Bucky. But there was always something missing from both our lives. And family gives you most in life, it shapes you as a person, teaches you a lot and gives you knowledge and experience that nothing else could.

I thought I saw my father’s younger brother sneaking around the funeral, too. Now, of course, I know it was him for sure. Then, I didn't remember precisely what he looked like.

I didn’t know him very well. I only knew his name - Robert. I had seen him with my father occasionally when I was younger. I didn’t know who he was, what he worked as or why he was detached from his own family. It was what my father had told me, he had also told me that he and Robert didn’t share the same mother, Robert had german blood in him. I'm not sure now, he looks similar to my grandmother. Or maybe I'm just rying to convince myself they're not step-brothers...

I was never curious to find out who he was and what he had as a job or… profession, if I could count it as a profession now. He didn't seem the family I wanted to have. I may seem arrogant to you by this statement, but he didn't seem the right guy. My grandparents - yes, maybe, but not Robert.

Many people had left me gifts which were a little hard to carry, so me and James called a taxi for each of us to get the gifts back to my house. They all barely fit inside the two cars which really surprised me. Why had people bought me so many gifts? I didn’t need that many things, I needed nothing at all except for my father, the leading figure in my life.

James stayed over that night. It was the first night ever that he stayed at my house. I had been to his house many times before then and stayed a couple. It was a lovely atmosphere there, in their household, with the three siblings still living there and his parents rushing around so everything would be nice and comfortable. Especially when I was around, but it seemed a bit excessive to me. I could tell they wanted to make a nice impression of themselves on me, but I never needed nor wanted one. I liked them already because they were good and caring people, very much like James himself. And they were the ones that gave James to this world.

We laid in my bed awake for many hours that night, could be until the clock hit two or three. I couldn’t sleep and, because James didn't want me to be alone, he didn't sleep, either. To keep me company. But I knew he secretly wanted to sleep because he was quite the heavy sleeper back then.

We talked a little here and there, but mostly there was silence between us. Only the gear wheels in my head turning slowly and heavily, with such resistance. I was thinking hard about everything, trying to decide something, at least. Something to say.

For once, I liked silence a little more than I usually do. I liked silence when I was with James. Neither of us speaking, only breathing and listening to each other's heartbeat. His arm around me, hand caressing my hair and his chest under my hand and beneath my ear so that I could hear his heartbeat. Well, maybe it wasn’t complete silence, after all. Hearing his heartbeat gave me comfort and inner peace. It was something I could listen to all my life, those steady beats of the heart I desire still against my ear drums.

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I know these seem like fillers now, but I promise you’ll understand why they’re needed and the real thing’s coming soon ;)

[i-believe-in-melinda-may]

My New Cabeson story, find the first chapter below: 

Chapter 1:

AN: After the final of SVU and Organized crime I felt the need to write a story. I knew it would focus on Alex as she is my favorite, and I realized that I wanted to include the Stabler who we know the lease about, Elizabeth. So, she is going to be a big part of this story. This story will be A/O but will not diminish the importance of the relationship Liv and Elliot share. It will also include friendship between Alex and Barba as I'm a sucker for the head cannon that they went to law school together.

I will also be addressing plotlines that SVU dropped such as Antonio Montoya and the effect the shooting and being in WITSEC had on Alex. I may or may not be ignoring Conviction, I haven't decided.

April 30 th  2018

Thirteen days ago, Alexandra 'Alex' Cabot, former Ice Queen and ADA, once again walked away from Lieutenant Olivia Benson. While it was not the first time the Lawyer walked away from the Detective it does not mean it was easy. In fact, other than when she was getting in the car to be taken away by the martials, it was the hardest time.

For eighteen years Alex Cabot has been not so secretively in love with the brunette detective. It took Alex a long time accept her feelings, and by then she was sure that everyone other than the Detective herself knew. For Alex she was able to accept her feelings, but she was never able, and is still not able, to admit them to anyone other than her herself.

It has been six years since the last time Alex saw Olivia and the second, she saw her in that carpark all the feelings she has been pushed down came racing back. As the two of them talked, and fought, and drank together it felt like the old days; something Alex has deeply missed.

While Alex still believes that what she has been doing is the right thing, she also knows that it might not be right for all situations; something Olivia made her realize. So, for the last thirteen days Alex has been using her connections, family money, and experience to set up Vita Nova, an organization, a hope for suffers of domestic abuse.

Even though it is a Sunday morning Alex is the office space she has rented setting up things she is going to need. While it is just her for the moment she intends to get help eventually. As she works on setting up what will be her office Alex hears the elevator dig and as she is not expecting anyone she feels a flash of fear rise up inside of her; a side effect of two years in WITSEC that she can't quiet shake.

Walking out of her office Alex sees a young woman, who cannot be any older than about twenty-five, walking towards her. After so many years of helping victims Alex automatically looks her up and down searching for signs of injuries. When she does not see any Alex feels relieved, but also more confused.

"Can I help you?" Alex asks, the confusion she is feeling all too clear in her voice.

"You don't recognize me. I'm not surprised, it has been a while," the woman says, in a tone of voice which says she expects Alex to know who she is.

"I'm sorry? Who are you?" Alex asks, her confusion only growing.

"Liz Stabler," She introduces. "I'm…" Liz starts to say.

"Elliot's youngest daughter," Alex says amazed. "The last time I saw you you were ten chasing your brother around at the Squad picnic we were at," Alex says, not sure how rectify that little girl she used to know with the grown women standing before her, as while she saw Dickie at sixteen she never saw Elizabeth.

"And when I couldn't catch him you told me that I didn't have to be faster or stronger to beat him, I just had to be smarter," Liz remembers.

"You remember that?" Alex asks surprised.

"I never forgot," Liz admits, and Alex is incredibly touched by that.

"It's really good to see you, Elizabeth, but I don't know why you are here, or how you know about this place," Alex admits, not being able to help but be incredibly curious about how Liz found out about what she is doing.

"Call me Liz," Liz requests as only her parents, and Dickie, call her Elizabeth, everyone else, including her sisters and Eli, call her Liz, just like her siblings and parents are the only people who call Richard Dickie. "My boss told me about this place, said you might need some help, I'm here to offer my service," Liz explains.

"Your Boss?" Alex asks confused, as she gestures to two of the seats that are unpacked so they can both sit down.

"I'm a social worker I have been since 2014 when I graduated Columbia early," Liz explains, like it's no big deal.

"Congratulations," Alex says, feeling proud of her. "That's a difficult profession to choose," Alex admits.

"It never really felt like a choice, more like a calling," Liz admits, and Alex gives her an interested look. "You know Dad was a part of SVU my whole life, until I was eighteen. My whole life I watched Dad be a cop, fight for victims and to get the bad people and even though he and Mum tried to hide it I know the cases he worked, and I realized that I wanted to help people before it ever became something Dad had to handle, and that's why I became a social worker," Liz admits. "But in the last four years I have seen that the system is so broken and I knew I wanted to do more, so I applied to law school, got early admission to Columbia for the fall, and it's also why I'm here," Liz admits. "Ms Cabot, I remember you from when I was a kid. I remember how you would fight for victims, and I know about the people you've helped since leaving SVU," Liz reveals as she has worked with some of the women. "When my boss told me you were starting this place, and looking into hiring a social worker to help I knew I wanted to be a part of it too, that's why I'm here," Liz reveals.

"Call me Alex," Alex requests, and because of the look on Alex's face Liz finds it really hard to figure out what she is thinking. "If you know what I've been doing since leaving SVU then I need you to know that if I need to do that you will not be a part of that, I won't do that to you," Alex tells her, knowing that if Liz starts to work with her she will do everything in her power to keep her away from that and make sure nothing falls back on her. "But if you're sure that you want to be a part of Vita Nova then I will be thrilled to have you. You'll help me build this place into what I hope it can be, be a social worker, and once you've started Law School some paralegal work if you'd like," Alex offers.

"I'd love that," Liz says as she is pretty sure that there is no one better to learn from than Alex Cabot.

"Then welcome to Vita Nova Liz Stabler," Alex says, sticking out her hand for Liz to shake.

"Thank you, Alex," Liz says, with a grin as while she is sure that this is going to be hard work it is also work, she wants to be a part of.

March 21 st  2020

Almost two years have passed since Liz Stabler and Alex Cabot started working together at Vita Nova. In the two years Alex has become a mentor to Liz, and the two of them have become friends, but as she hasn't been sure how to tell him during their weekly phone calls, or even when she visited her parents and brother in Rome, Liz hasn't told her father who she is working with and Alex hasn't asked about Elliot; it seems that both of them feel that it is a subject better left unsaid.

Since founding Vita Nova Alex and Liz have been working hard and have managed to help a lot of victims of domestic violence, but there have also been victims that they were unfortunately not able to help for a wide variety of reasons. While they have causal and part time employees, which occasionally includes Kathleen Stabler who has become a psychologist focusing on Bi Polar Disorder, Alex and Liz are the only permanent, fulltime, employees, and everything Vita Nova is was built by the two of them.

In a manner of weeks, the world has completely changed, and not for the better. As she stands in her office and looks out at the bullpen full of masked Offices Captain Olivia Benson feels afraid about what is going to happen next.

For most of New York a stay at home order has been ordered, but that does not include Oliva and her team, and Olivia also suspects she knows someone else who will not follow the order; Alexandra Caroline Cabot. It has been almost two years since Olivia talked to the blonde Lawyer, turned vigilante, but so many times she has thought about her, wondered if she is safe, or if the partner of one of the women she has been helping have hurt her. Even with everything that is going on Olivia knows that if there is a woman, or children, in danger then there is no way Alex will stay home.

"You okay Captain?" Rollins asks as she has noticed that Olivia has been staring out to space for the last five minutes.

"I don't know," Olivia admits.

"Yeah, I don't think any of us are," Amanda admits. "All I know is that I'm gonna hold my girls extra close," Amanda explains.

"I'm going to do the same with Noah," Olivia admits, and she hears the sounds of heels walking along the floor, and just for second Olivia expects to see Alex, and is even a little disappointed when she doesn't.

"Liv?" Amanda asks concerned.

"I need to make a phone call," Olivia says, causing Amanda to be incredibly confused, as Olivia heads back into her office.

Before she has a chance to second guess herself Olivia picks up her cell and calls the number that Alex gave her the last time the two of them talked. Not even sure if the number is active Oliva waits as it rings until finally the line picks up, but it is silent.

"Alex?" Olivia asks, feeling her concern grow.

"Liv?" Alex's surprised voice asks, and Olivia feels relief.

"Yeah, it's me," Olivia confirms.

"It's been two years," Alex says, sounding surprised, but also glad.

"I know," Olivia confirms, feeling a little guilty about that but she also knows that Alex hasn't reached out either. "How are you?" Olivia asks.

"Healthy," Alex answers. "Right now, that's all I can ask for," Alex admits. "How are you?" Alex asks, having no idea what else to ask.

"I'm healthy too, so is Noah," Olivia explains, knowing that Alex learnt about her son the last time they talked.

"I'm really glad to hear that," Alex admits. "Liv I'm always happy to hear from you, but did you need something?" Alex asks curious.

"No…. I just wanted to check in," Olivia admits.

"Well I'm glad you did," Alex admits. "I've missed you," Alex admits, knowing that the fact that she has barely slept for the past week would have played a part in her being so honest.

"I've missed you too," Olivia admits, finding it easier to say it because she heard Alex say it first. "Alex…." Oliva says, and then trails of.

"Liv?"

"Stay safe, okay," Olivia requests.

"You're not going to tell me to stop what I'm doing?" Alex asks, both knowing what she is talking about.

"I know you well enough to know you won't stop," Olivia admits. "But I just need to know that you're at least being safe, especially now," Olivia admits.

"I'm doing my best," Alex admits. "I hope you're being safe too, Captain," Alex admits.

"You heard about that," Olivia says, not being able to explain why, but feeling glad that Alex seems to at least know about what is going on in her professional life.

"I keep informed," Alex admits.

"You know, that sounds a little stalkery Counsellor," Olivia comments, there being a level of amusement to her voice.

"Whatever you say Captain," Alex says, sounding amused, and as she does Olivia sees Fin walking towards her office.

"Hey Alex, I've got to go, Fin's coming my way and he's got the look on his face that tells me we've got work to do," Olivia admits.

"It never ends," Alex says. "Liv, call again sometimes okay, it's been nice to talk again," Alex admits.

"Phones work two ways counselor," Olivia reminds her.

"I'll remember that," Alex responds. "Bye Liv,"

"Bye Alex," Oliva says, before hanging up and gesturing for Fin to come into her office.

After hanging up with Olivia Alex just stares at her phone, feeling shocked that she actually talked to Olivia Benson again.

The next morning after another night of little sleep, though this time it was because she was thinking about the call she exchanges with Olivia, Alex is walking into the Vita Nova offices. Getting off the elevator Alex takes off her mask and as she walks towards her office, she sees the same sight that has greeted her basically every day for the past two years, Liz Stabler sitting at her desk.

"I told you that you didn't have to come in," Alex says as she walks towards the young woman.

"If you're here, I'm here," Liz informs her. "And I needed to be here," Liz says, slightly quieter, and because she knows Liz Alex can tell that there is something off about her voice.

"Liz, what's going on?" Alex asks concerned as she pulls up a chair, but makes sure to keep a reasonable distance away, and right away she notices that Liz looks hesitant to talk. "You know you can always talk to me, no matter what," Alex tells the young woman. In the two years that the two of them have been working together Alex has been a mentor to Liz, a sounding board, given advice, guidance, and support when needed, and been there for Liz when she needs it. In a lot of ways Alex has been a parental figure to Liz, but neither have voiced what they both know.

"I know Alex, I've known since you picked me up from the bar when I was drunk and heartbroken and had no idea who else to call," Liz admits, as why that night is foggy she knows that she knew she didn't want to call her siblings and it felt natural to call Alex. "It's my parents, and my brother Eli," Liz reveals.

"Are they okay? Has something happened?" Alex asks concerned, being very aware that this is the first time either of them have mentioned Elliot.

"They're in Rome," Liz reveals, as Alex feels her heart sink and realizes why Liz is acting the way she is. "After Dad left SVU they went to Europe, and he's been working in Rome for… years," Liz reveals. "I'm sorry I never told you," Liz says, looking a little guilty for that.

"It's okay, you don't have to apologize," Alex assures her. "I've thought about asking about your parents, your Dad, but I never knew how," Alex admits.

"Just like I never knew how to mention them," Liz admits, then sighs. "I'm scared for them, Alex, things are so bad there," Liz reveals, fear in her voice. "Eli's not even thirteen and he didn't grow up the same way the rest of us did, he doesn't know how careful he has to be," Liz explains. "Dad's still working and even as they stay home as much as possible Mom and Eli will have to leave the apartment occasionally," Liz explains, and Alex recognizes the signs of her spiraling. "If something happens, they're so far away, and we're not going to be able to help," Liz says, revealing all her fears, and Alex wants to reach out and comfort her, but giving the current situation she can't.

"Liz, I want to tell you that everything will be okay, and I hate that I can't," Alex admits. "I'm scared too, I'm scared for all the people who are quarantining with their abuses, I'm scared for Antonio because he hated being on Lockdown when we were in WITSEC so I have no idea how he's going to handle this, I'm scared for my old squad who are on the front line, and their families, I'm scared for my oldest friend who is in Iowa dealing with corrupt politicians surrounded by people who don't even believe the pandemic is real," Alex explains, and while Liz knows about Alex's time in Witsec, and is friends with Antonio Montoya, she also knows it's rare for Alex, or Antonio for that matter, to talk about that time. "We're living in frightening times, Liz, we've just got to take it one day at a time," Alex explains. "It's not going to be easy, but that's what we've got to do," Alex tells her. "Videocall your parents, and your brother, see for yourself that they are okay; it's only a little but it will help," Alex tells her.

"Yeah, I think I might do that," Liz admits. "Thanks Alex," Liz says.

"You never have to thank me, Liz. I'm always here to listen, and help when I can," Alex assures her, standing up.

"You are going on a coffee run?" Liz asks curious, knowing that Alex basically lives on coffee.

"No, I'm going to take my own advice," Alex says, heading into her office, and Liz gives her a curious look as she goes.

Walking into her office Alex, after closing the door behind her, puts her bag on her desk, sits down in her chair and pulls her phone and places a video call to Olivia.

Feeling a little nervous as she isn't sure that Olivia is going to be able to answer her Alex is very glad when Olivia actually does answer, even though it takes a little while.

"Twice in two days, this is a habit I could get used to," Olivia says, sounding glad and due to the fact that they are on video call Olivia can't help but take notice of every little detail of Alex Cabot; trying to pin point any differences.

"Me too," Alex answers.

"Where are you?" Olivia asks, as she doesn't recognize anything that is in Alex's background.

"My office," Alex reveals.

"Ah Vita Nova; New Life, good choice in names their Counsellor," Olivia comments as when she learnt what Alex called her organization she looked up what the name meant.

"It seemed appropriate," Alex admits. "And I see I'm not the only one who he's been keeping informed," Alex says, looking amused.

"What can I say, I'm a detective," Olivia responds. While she has looked into what Alex has been doing, she hasn't realized that Alex is working with Elizabeth Stabler.

"A good one at that," Alex responds, with a slightly flirty tone of voice.

"I've heard people say that" Olivia responds, and Alex just rolls her eyes in an amused way. "This is nice," Olivia admits, as even with all the horrible things that are going on, all the horrible things she has been through over the past few months, it is nice to talk to Alex again.

"It is," Alex confirms. "Things are so bad right now, I think we need to find the good where we can," Alex says, saying something remarkably similar to what she just told Liz.

"Are you saying that talking to me is a good thing, Al?" Olivia asks curious.

"It's a very good thing," Alex admits, and as she does she sees Liz walking towards her office. "And as much as I would very much like to keep talking to you, I've got to go," Alex admits. "Talk again soon?" Alex asks.

"Definitely," Olivia responds. "Bye Alex," Olivia says.

"Bye Olivia," Alex says, before hanging up, and once she hangs up she gestures to Liz to walk in. "How are they?" Alex asks curious, as Liz walks over and sits down across from her.

"Eli's annoyed that he can't see his friends, Mom's scared, Dad's dad, but they're all okay," Liz admits, looking relieved, as while it was only a quick call it was beyond good and exactly what she needed.

"That's good," Alex says.

"Yeah, I feel like a weight is off my chest," Liz admits. "I know they might not stay okay, but just to know they in this very moment they are… it's everything," Liz says, looking thrilled.

"That's great Liz," Alex tells her with a smile, and as she does her phone goes off with a message, which wipes the smile off her face. "And while I hate to put a damper on the good, we've got to talk about Brianne Harrison," Alex reveals.

"Has a hearing been scheduled?" Liz asks, looking interested.

"Not yet," Alex admits. "Her husband just breached the restraining order. She's at her doctors," Alex explains looking concerned.

"How bad?" Liz asks concerned.

"Bad," Alex says, standing up.

"The kids?" Liz asks concerned, knowing that Brianne has two kids. A son who is four, and a six-month-old daughter.

"With her," Alex explains. "I'm going to go talk to her, I need you to find out what happened, and get started on the paperwork," Alex explains.

"You've got it," Liz responds.

"Liz don't leave the offices. We'll figure out a plan for how we're going to adapt to this situation when I get back," Alex tells her.

"Okay," Liz responds, and once she does Alex heads out of the office, putting on her mask as she goes.