Chapter Text
Her hand tightened around the bouquet, its flowers too expensive, too rare. She never would have picked these out if she had a choice. They were too grand; there was too much of an expectation placed on these tiny living things. Living things that once thrived in a garden of their peers, and now was forced to perform. Eventually, in a short amount of time, they’d die. Wilt away in their vase. Once something people admired and looked upon with wonder because no one would believe something could be that enchanting, charming, and beautiful. But eventually they get thrown away. Moved over for the next best thing. Something someone saw in the background of a photograph and said ‘Remember those flowers? They were divine’. One day, it would be her. She’d be forgotten. Thrown away once she’d done her job. Marriage. Babies. Housewife. Crone. She was born unaware of the shelf life she had been branded with.
Told by age ten, she was to marry to help further their family’s legacy. To solidify the Cabot name for another generation. To produce another horde of ungrateful children who didn’t understand their privilege. Cabot grandchildren that her mother and father could be proud of. Her brothers had done it. They had been thrust into this life. Married to women who now go to lunch and shop to pass the time, who hung off their arms at dinners and social gatherings with fake smiles plastered across their faces. Trying to remember that they were grateful for the leverage the Cabot name had given them. Another rung on the ladder climbed. All they had to do was say ‘I do’ and give over their bodies to the process of child rearing. Her mother had done it proudly, spread her legs and welcomed the Cabot name. Bringing three children into the world. Adding branches to the tree that Alex had once thought would stop growing once her time had come. It’s simple, Alexandra, her mother used to say, you’ll understand when you’re older. But she never did. Even as a child, she knew she never would. It wasn’t hardwired into her like her brothers. She didn’t have that same thirst for power like they did; she didn’t want to be the talk of the town or the queen of the New York City socialites. She wanted to be Alex. Alexandra Cabot. Soon to be Mrs Alexandra Coldwell-Kline.
Her mother would be in the front row. Checking the slender watch on her wrist over and over again until this whole event started. It had to be on time. Down to the second. She had planned it all. Spent their money on every element. Alex was their only daughter. Born to Henry and Beatrice Cabot in the fall of 1972. Alex had come out screaming, already showing who she was destined to become. Born with a shock of blonde hair and those newborn blue eyes that only sharpened as she aged. She looked the part. Always had. Her father had laughed when he held her for the first time. Not out of cruelty, he’d always wanted a girl. But a daughter meant horse riding lessons, ballet, finishing school, someone he could use to boost their image in the future.
Her brothers, Henry Cabot IV and Rupert Cabot, had their choice of women. Their father had bragged about how any woman would be lucky to marry into the Cabot fortune. They had families lined up, ready to offer over their daughters for a chance to step into their WASP-y world. Her brothers had told her to play along. To not make waves. They had joked that she should consider herself lucky since she wouldn’t have to work anymore. But it wasn’t their bodies on the line. It wasn’t their livelihoods that were about to be taken. They got to sit back and watch as their wives’ bodies changed under the weight of adding yet another Cabot grandchild to the brood. They got to play golf and flirt with waitresses on the weekend with their buddies while their wives sat at home and waited for them to return.
Alex was the one who had fought through Harvard Law school, clawing her way to the top of her graduating class so she could land a job at the DA’s office. She didn’t want to lie back and pray that her husband would finish quickly so she could finally roll over and go to sleep before repeating it all the next day. There had been a time when she looked up to her father. A lawyer like herself. He had laughed when she wanted to become a prosecutor. “That’s not where the money is,” he had said. That memory had burned itself in her brain. It was the day she stopped idolising him. The day she saw her father for what he truly was: Too much pride, too much greed. The realisation that her father was like all the other men she had grown up around had felt like a slap in the face. Their hubris blinded them to reality. This wasn’t life. It was prison.
For Alex, it had been non-negotiable. Her mother and father were eager for her to marry up. To get a man who would boost their image. Alex didn’t see it like that. Maxwell Coldwell-Kline had attended her private school. He was a man who hadn’t yet grown out of boyhood. He was fratty, rude, crude. She had hated him, even in childhood, but their match had been deemed perfect, a perfect blend of status, money, and genes. But money and status were everything. And now Alex was stuck. Standing too stiff in a white gown that would pay for a decades worth of rent in New York City.
A line of flower girls eagerly swung their baskets in front of her, waiting for their turn, not yet knowing what awaited them in the future. It should have been the happiest day of her life, but all she could do was look down at her flowers, trying not to think about the bile that was eager to rise. Her father was outside on the steps of the cathedral smoking a cigar. She hoped that he was thinking about the woman standing on the edge, about to take her first step towards her grave. Maybe he saw the woman in the dress and saw the little girl she once was. Probably not. She was just a successful business transaction to him now, nothing more. Her bridesmaids were fussing with their hair in the foyer, giggling over vapid topics that had never interested her. She had never felt more alone.
But then she glanced over her shoulder; her veil hid half of her face, there was only one person she could even bear to look at. Those warm brown eyes and that smile that would reassure her more than words could. The woman who managed to pull off short hair, chestnut strands that emphasised her features effortlessly, a look Alex’s mother had argued was impossible to style. Olivia Benson. Alex had made it a condition for this wedding. Her mother had nearly lost her mind when Alex had insisted that Olivia be a bridesmaid. A cop. The daughter of a drunk. Olivia didn’t go to an Ivy League school or have a second house in Connecticut. She had a one-bedroom apartment in midtown with temperamental heating. Olivia had said yes the second Alex had asked, of course she would, she would do anything Alex asked. But she’d be lying if she wasn’t nervous. Terrified. She was surrounded by young women who had known each other from birth, all bred to believe this was all life had to offer. If anything, it made it more obvious how different Alex was to them. “You okay?” Olivia mouthed, her brows pinched together. Alex had paid for her dress; there was no way Olivia would have been able to afford the dress Alex’s mother had picked out. Alex hadn’t told her mother that she’d paid for it; she didn’t need to know. Her mother would have pulled Olivia from her bridal shower the minute Olivia voiced that it was out of her budget, and Alex assumed her mother had done it on purpose to force Olivia out. But Alex wasn’t doing this without Olivia by her side.
Alex swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She nodded unconvincingly. She was dragged back into the moment by her father’s hand on her arm. “It’s time, princess,” he said proudly. His voice was warm, fatherly, but there was a hint of pride that stemmed from knowing his daughter was bound for better things. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t have much of a choice, but the moment had always seemed so far away, something she’d have time to get used to, but now the moment was here. It wasn’t months in the future. It was now. It was obedience disguised as tradition. She looked back over her shoulder as the music beyond the doors flooded the cathedral. Olivia’s hand was already reaching out; she could see it on her pale face. She could read her better than anyone.
“Liv…”
Olivia stepped up beside her, ignoring the complaints from the other women. “Alex,” she whispered, taking her hand. “Do you want to do this?” she asked, her voice firm, her eyes never leaving Alex’s.
Alex felt her father’s hand grip her arm, trying to get her attention as men reached for the door handles, waiting for their cue. “No…” she breathed, her voice shook under the weight of what she had held in for the past couple of months. “I can’t marry him.”
“Then let’s go,” Olivia said. She made it sound so simple. Olivia didn’t know the weight of expectations like Alex did. There were hundreds of people waiting in that hall; they treated the invitations to this wedding like some kind of celebrity event. Gripping them in their hands like they had won the lottery. “We can run. Right now.”
“I can’t. They’re all waiting for me.”
“So…?” Olivia replied. “This is your life, Al.” Olivia’s grip on her hand tightened, tugging her closer. “You don’t belong to this kind of life. I know that and so do you.”
Alex kept her sights on Olivia, those deep brown eyes studied her own blue ones, steady and searching as the silence between them lingered. She looked back at her father briefly, her breath catching in her throat as it dawned on her. This was her last chance. There was no turning back once those doors opened. The altar was waiting. Everyone would stand, and Max would look at her like she was a meal he could devour. Alex pulled away from her father’s arm as the doors to the cathedral hall opened. “Help me,” she said. Olivia didn’t need to ask again. She turned, her grip of Alex never loosening despite the shouts and squeals from the young women around them.
“Alexandra,” Her father warned.
“Ignore him,” Olivia said as she ushered Alex out of the cathedral and into the spring sun. “My car’s around the corner.”
“Get back here!” her father’s voice barked across the entryway.
Alex’s veil flapped in the wind as their steps quickened. More shouts echoed behind them, footsteps close behind. Their heels clicked against the sidewalk as they took off toward Olivia’s beat-up Toyota Corolla. Alex looked over to Olivia, and their eyes met; they couldn’t help but laugh. It was uncontrolled, contagious. The kind of laugh that came from relief. Freedom. She could still feel the weight of Max’s hands on her thigh at the rehearsal dinner; the jokes he had made about their wedding night disappeared as she ran. The finality in her mother’s voice had echoed in her mind until this moment. Alex’s heel caught in a crack in the sidewalk as they sprinted. “Shit—” she hissed as she stumbled.
Olivia caught her elbow, not letting her fall.
“You’re good,” she muttered, pulling her forward. “Almost there,” People were looking, but she didn’t care. Groups of tourists gawped. Gaggles of older ladies whispered to each other as the two women ran past. “Come on,” Olivia laughed as her hand reached back for Alex’s.
“Don’t do this to your mother!” Her father’s voice boomed from where he stood at the entrance to the cathedral, her brothers standing open-mouthed as they watched their little sister do something they’d never dreamed of doing.
“Liv, my dress,” Alex squealed as they ran down the sidewalk and across the street, the hem of it dipping in and out of grates and manhole covers. Every ballet lesson had prompted poise. Every social event had been an auction, her soul being sold to the highest bidder. A legacy of aunties and grandmothers and cousins that she was destined to join, only to tie her children to the same fate. It was evaporating with every step taken. She hoisted her dress up with her free hand. “It’s getting ruined.”
“Why do you care?” Olivia said as she looked over her shoulder. “It’s not like you need it,” Alex was breathless by the time they made it to Olivia’s car. It wasn’t the running that took her breath away; it was the laughter. The relief found within the feeling of being free. She didn’t think about the consequences. For now, she was just a young woman giggling as Olivia dug her car key out of her bra, her hands fumbling to unlock it with all the adrenaline running through her. “I didn’t have a purse that would match the Prada,” Olivia joked as she hinted towards the keys.
“I think my mother would have a heart attack if she saw you do that,” Alex laughed.
Olivia finally unlocked the car, opening the door for Alex. “Come on, Cabot. Let’s get you out of here,” Olivia’s heart squeezed as Alex beamed in the front passenger seat. Cabot. It was still hers. Gentle but firm hands worked to squish the overflowing amount of vintage lace and silk into her dingy car. It was only last week that she had spilt her coffee all over the foot well that now housed Alex’s Jimmy Choos. But Alex didn’t even blink. Not even at the coffee stain. This was the first real smile Olivia had seen in months, and she would do anything to keep it there.
Olivia finished tucking the last pieces of fabric into the car before she slammed the door. Her eyes glanced up at the cathedral as she sped around to the driver’s side. “Shit,” she muttered. Two young men hurried towards them, their coat tails flapping in the breeze as they waved at them to come back. Alex’s name was lost in the noise of the city traffic as they yelled, but Olivia caught their tone. Agitated. Annoyed that their sister had chosen something for herself for the first time in her life. Olivia pulled Alex’s seatbelt across, clicking it into place around the hundreds of yards of hand-stitched material. “You good?” Olivia asked as she rushed to strap herself in, her breath fast as she tried to beat the clock. Her brothers were gaining on them. The car roared to life as Olivia twisted the key, already indicating out of her space.
“I’m good,” Alex replied. Her hand covered her mouth as a burst of laughter slipped out. Unrestrained and wild as she watched her brothers run. “Drive, Liv. Get me out of here,” she said, her chest felt lighter than it had in months. Olivia put her foot down, merging into traffic, her car being lost to the sea of cars. Alex kept her eyes on the cathedral until they’d made it to a safe distance. “I can’t believe I did that,” she laughed breathlessly. “My heart is beating out of my chest. Feel,” Alex picked up Olivia’s hand that was resting on the centre console and placed it over her heart.
Sure enough, it slammed against Olivia’s hand. “Jesus,” Olivia laughed. Alex smiled. Olivia had watched her get dressed that morning. She had observed the way Alex’s mother had fussed over every strand of blonde hair and bobby pin. Alex had looked gorgeous; she was every part the daughter and bride her parents had raised in that moment. But right now, with hair slightly mussed from the wind and her dress wet and dirty at the hem, she looked breathtaking. She was excited, giddy. For the first time in her, life she had done something without her parents’ approval and god, she looked radiant. Olivia kept her hand there, and Alex didn’t let go of it either.
The late morning sun poured through the windows as the car hummed down the road. The radio wasn’t on, but the silence didn’t need to be filled. It was heavy, the sound of Alex’s breath mingling with the sounds of the city. So many people around were unaware of what had just happened, of the change that had just been set in motion. The world fell away around them until it was just them, two women looking out of place in dresses that had cost more than the car they sat in. Olivia slowed as they approached a red light, letting herself steal a glance at Alex. Her hand gripped Alex’s knee over her dress. “You don’t belong to anyone, Alex,” she said. Olivia knew she had to remind her because it wouldn’t be long before the weight of what they had done crashed down with a force Alex had never experienced before. “Remember that.”
Alex’s hand joined Olivia’s, squeezing despite how much they trembled. “I know that now,” she whispered. She turned back to the window as she let go of Olivia’s hand, letting it return to her veil. It was nothing more than fabric, sheer material her father had insisted she wear. Something her mother had measured and changed with such precision until it fell perfectly across her face. But it hid everything she had built in the few years of adulthood she had been allowed to experience until she became the doll. The life-size political chess piece in a game she had no interest in playing. Now it felt fragile between her fingers; the appearance of wealth had always been more important than the money itself.
“I didn’t think you’d actually run,” Olivia said suddenly, her voice cutting through the silence. There had been a weight that had settled on her chest from the moment she’d woken up. Dread. It had only increased on the drive to Alex’s parent’s brownstone, spreading as soon as the fake laughs and the synthetic lilt of wealth had hit her ears. Olivia was too different for this crowd, but Alex was too, in a way. She looked the part, old money and education, but there was a part of her that Olivia admired. An element that couldn’t be bred or taught. She had humility unlike her peers. And Olivia had to face the fact that her friend was going to be changed after today. Alex had stood frozen as her mother had built this world around her, the perfect dress and shoes, traditional vows, and make-up that made her look untouched by the real world. She was a classic beauty, but Olivia couldn’t bury the voice that screamed that Alex didn’t belong here. She had seen every wince, every flicker of discomfort that had crossed Alex’s face, every time her mother had opened her mouth. Stand up straight. You’ll be doing this for your own daughter one day, Alexandra. This is how a woman should look, pure. Olivia had wanted to throw up hearing it; she could only imagine how Alex must have felt.
“Neither did I,” Alex said, her breath hitched as she spoke. She couldn’t look at Olivia right now. Instead, she focused on the woman walking her dog, its leash in one hand while she gripped the hand of a little girl in the other. The couple yelling at each other as they hailed a cab. The man waiting for the bus on his own, a folded newspaper in hand. The world was still turning while hers had stopped. “They’ll never forgive me,” she whispered as she dared to glance at the other woman in the car.
“Maybe not…” Olivia replied steadily. She couldn’t lie to her. “But I don’t think you’d ever forgive yourself if you had stayed.”
Alex nodded; she knew it was true. “Do you think I’m a coward?”
“No,” Olivia’s voice was firm; she knew for a fact she was right. “I think the opposite, Al. You’ve just made the bravest decision of your life.”
“What if I made the wrong decision?”
“Then we’ll figure it out.”
“You sound so sure,” Alex said. “They’re going to be so angry.”
Olivia’s hands tightened on the wheel, not at Alex but at her parents. “Let them be angry,” she huffed. “Maybe they’ll realise you’re a person and not a puppet,” she looked at her friend as she pulled to a stop. She reached out to brush a stray hair behind her ear as she watched the tears begin to gather. She kept her hand there until their eyes connected. Olivia’s face softened, a smile appearing as she studied Alex’s grief-stricken face. “You’re okay,” she whispered, her own breath catching as the emotion caught up with her.
She was staying calm for Alex’s sake. She didn’t come from this world, but she knew what this would mean for Alex. She hadn’t planned to drag Alex out of that cathedral this morning, but that urge to protect had surged the moment she saw Alex’s face. The window of opportunity was closing right before her eyes, and she had to jump in before it was too late. When else could she do it? After Alex’s wedding night? When she was pregnant with an heir to the fortune? When she had lost herself completely to country club ethics? She couldn’t sit by and watch the cycle repeat itself. Maybe she was selfish, but she didn’t want to watch her friend become something she wasn’t.
She had only met Alex’s parents a few times before the wedding was announced. She knew she wasn’t the type of friend they had imagined for their daughter; she could see it in their eyes. She could hear it in the questions they asked, even though they already knew the answers. They wanted to drive a wedge between them, show Alex how different they were, but it hadn’t worked. Alex had clung on tighter, so her parents had stopped trying. She didn’t know what would happen next. Alex was fragile. She’d be looking for comfort, and Olivia wanted to give it to her. But she couldn’t get ahead of herself even if her mind was telling her to give herself over.
The silence was interrupted by constant buzzing coming from Olivia’s glove box. “Don’t look at it,” Olivia said, but it was no use; Alex was already opening it up and reaching for her cellphone, which she had given Olivia hours before. “Alex. Don’t.”
Alex sighed as she clicked the buttons on her Nokia. “God,” she whispered. A string of messages came through, her phone struggling to keep up. Call me now. You don’t even know what you’ve done! You’re an embarrassment to this family. “What have I done?”
“Hey. No,” Olivia said, grabbing the phone out of her hand and tossing it onto the back seats. “Don’t do that. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“They don’t see it like that, Liv,” she said, the panic in her voice evident.
“I don’t care what they see,” Olivia said, her tone more forceful than she had meant it to be. “I care about you and your happiness, not some game your parents are playing.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Alex asked.
“Nothing. Just be Alex. That’s all you have to do right now, nothing more.”
“I don’t know who she is anymore.”
“She’s still in there; we just have to find her,” Olivia reassured.