Chapter One:  The Vic

 

 

So this was how it was all going to end…

 

Olivia pressed her back to the wall as she felt her legs give out.  Slowly, she sank down onto the dirty floor of the warehouse, her hand pressed tight against the excruciating pain in her side.

 

Taking a deep breath, she peeled her fingers away and stared down at the perfect black circle the bullet had made in her shirt.  Dazed, almost fascinated, she watched as the sullen red stain that covered half of her abdomen seemed to pulse around the wound, almost vibrating in intensity as fresh blood leaked from the opening.  Closing her eyes, she repositioned her hand and pressed hard, grimacing as tears slid down her cheeks. 

 

If she could just get it to stop bleeding…

 

She shifted slightly and the agony flared white hot, a small gasp tearing from her lips as she gave in to the reality of the situation. 

 

There was no exit wound; the bullet was still in there.  And every time she moved, she could feel it digging in a little deeper, tearing her up a little bit more.  Nothing would stop the bleeding… not now.

 

She felt her head begin to swim as dark spots filled the edges of her vision.  With the last of her strength, she raised the Glock in her right hand and thumbed the release.

 

The clip fell onto her lap and she swallowed, realizing it was much too light.

 

Empty…

 

She was still looking at it when the footsteps that had been moving towards her stopped.  She raised her head to find herself staring down the barrel of a .45 automatic.

 

There was an obscenely gentle laugh.  “I win.”  A voice whispered.

 

The muscles in her arm gave out, causing her hand to fall to the floor beside her.  The Glock slipped from her fingertips and skittered across the concrete.  “Why, because you’re gonna kill me?”  She shook her head, her words punctuated by short, panting breaths.  “There are fifty badges outside.  One way or the other… you’re going down.”

 

“Maybe.” A finger caressed the trigger lovingly.  “But you won’t be here to see it.”

 

Olivia shrugged, biting back the gasp of pain that would have given away just how much effort the small movement cost her.  “I’ve scraped enough shit off my shoes to know what it looks like.  I won’t be missing anything.”  She watched as a foot was drawn back and pulled her knees towards her, protecting her abdomen with the tops of her thighs.  The three sharp kicks delivered to her shins hurt like a motherfucker, but it was better than the alternative.

 

“Goodbye, Detective…”

 

When she didn’t close her eyes, the perp moved forward slightly, pressing the gun firmly against her temple.

 

She could feel the heat emanating off the barrel, left over from the shot that had impacted with her side, as the acrid scent of gunpowder assaulted her nose.  Still she did not flinch.  Lifting her chin, she stared directly at her attacker, a small smirk on her lips.

 

She watched the hammer click back with a sick sense of fascination as she waited for her life to flash before her eyes. 

 

That was supposed to happen right?

 

But it didn’t.

 

If she was supposed to spend the last few moments of her life reminiscing about the things that were the most important to her, then it was going to be pretty hard to keep denying the only image that came to mind.

 

Intense blue eyes… behind thin black frames…

 

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *         

 

7 Days Earlier

Wednesday  07:02 AM

 

Elliot Stabler smiled as he flipped open the box of Krispy Kreme donuts and saw one last cream filled with his name on it.  He knew his partner would be pissed as all hell that he had swiped her breakfast, but she was late so it was her own damn fault.

 

“You snooze, you lose, Liv.”  He bit down on the pastry just as the door swung open and the woman in question stepped inside.

 

Detective Olivia Benson shook the snow out of her short, dark hair before unwinding the scarf from around her neck, throwing both it and her well worn black leather jacket onto a coat rack in the corner.  Cold air seemed to vent off her well toned body in waves as she blew into freezing hands.   Without so much as a grunt of acknowledgement, she made a beeline for the coffee pot, filling her mug with the steaming brew before sighing in relief as she wrapped her fingers around the heated porcelain.

 

Deep, auburn colored eyes studied Elliot over the rim of the coffee mug as she walked towards their desks, which sat back to back in the middle of the squad room.  One eyebrow quirked up dangerously as she noticed the donut in her partners hand.

 

Correction: the half of a donut in his hand.

 

“Unless you want to be walking funny for the rest of the day there had better be another one of those in that box for me.”  She said darkly.

 

“Mmmph.”  Elliot choked on the bite already in his mouth before grinning sheepishly and handing her the uneaten portion.  “I was just… checking to make sure it hadn’t gone stale.  What with you being late and all…”

 

She snatched the donut as she glared at him.  “Two minutes, Elliot.  I was two minutes late!”

 

“Hey, you’re either on time or you aren’t.”  He dropped into his chair, picking up his own mug.   “That donut was lonely, I had no choice but to put it out of its misery and eat it.”

 

Olivia slid behind her desk, taking the time to put her feet up as a slow, wicked smile played across her lips. “I’ll remember that the next time you’re late getting home to Kathy.”

 

Elliot choked on his coffee.  Leaning forward, he coughed violently as his lungs tried to expel the liquid.  When he could breathe again he shot her a nasty look.  “You know, I think maybe I liked it better when I just suspected you were a vagitarian.”

 

The brunette laughed, glancing around the squad room to make sure they were still alone.  She remembered the night her partner had ambushed her at O’Malley’s rather fondly.  He had been in the dog house with Kathy at the time and dropped in to find her nursing a beer and a sore jaw, both courtesy of the woman she had bedded earlier in the evening.  “Hey, you were the one who came to me with your oh-so-serious look and your ‘we’re more than partners, Liv… we’re family’ spiel.” She bit down on the donut, grinning at him as she licked the white cream from her lips.  “You just wouldn’t leave it alone.”

 

Elliot glanced over his shoulder at Cragen’s office before leaning towards her.  “I thought someone had clocked you!  I was ready to beat the hell out of the guy.”

Olivia broke into helpless laughter as she remembered the look on his face when she explained that the bruise had actually come from her bedmates knee… which had collided with her jaw at the most inopportune time.  “Well, at least I saved you from a felonious assault charge.”

 

“The truth shall set you free?” 

 

“Something like that.”  She grinned.

 

“Benson!  Stabler!”

 

The two detectives glanced up to see Cragen standing in the doorway to his office.  One look at his face and their laughter died immediately.

 

“What’s up Cap?”  Olivia took in the sag of his shoulders, the deeply haunted look in his eyes and felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.  In her head the litany of names began.

 

Not a cop… not a friend… not Munch, or Fin or… She felt her blood run cold.  Please not Alex…

 

“We caught an ugly one.”  The captain’s voice was tired, and carefully devoid of any type of inflection.  “This one comes with a price tag.”

 

“What’s the name?”  She held her breath.

 

 “Wainscott.”

 

Olivia’s jaw dropped.  “Judge Wainscott?”  She felt the panic that had been building inside of her dissipate as a hot flush of guilt took its place.  She knew there was a framed photo of her boss and the judge on the wall in his office.  They had been friends for a long time.

 

“Not him.”  Cragen swallowed.  “His daughter, Samantha.”

 

Your goddaughter…  Olivia looked down at the floor,

 

“Where’s the vic?”  Elliot asked quietly.

 

“Waiting on Warner.”  The Captain’s voice hitched slightly.  “Apartment’s on the upper east side.  74^th street.”  He sighed.  “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that the seconds are ticking loudly on this one.  You’ve got whatever you need.  Just find this son of a bitch.”

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *          

 

Olivia stood up, her throat working convulsively as it tried to clear her mouth of the thick saliva coating it.  She wasn’t going to be sick.  That hadn’t happened in years, but this was the closest she had come to it in longer than she could remember.  Standing there in the swank uptown apartment with its pristine walls now striped red, its thick white shag carpet stiffening into rust colored spikes as the heavy copper smell permeated every square inch of the place, she almost wished she would.

 

At least then she’d be able to get the taste out of her mouth.

 

She looked down at Elliot who was still crouched over the vic, one hand on his knee, the other covering his chin as his eyes stared hard.  She could see the muscles jumping in his jaw as his teeth ground together and she watched the red flush of anger that crept up his cheeks to stain the tips of his ears.

 

It had been brutal.

 

Brutal on a level that made even her skin crawl.

 

Samantha Wainscot had been a beautiful woman.  At least the pictures on top of the mantle showed her that way.  What the officer who had responded to the excessive noise complaint had found… was hardly recognizable.

 

The woman had been gutted.  Her abdomen had been laid open from the base of her neck to the juncture between her legs.  Her thighs were a series of crisscrossing cut patterns, most of them deep enough to show the white of bone from between layers of flesh made pale by lack of blood.  Her arms were in the same condition, with the added bonus of her fingertips having been sheered off down to the bone.

 

But the worst thing by far… was her face.

 

Or what was left of it.

 

Someone had used a very sharp knife to strip the skin and flesh away, leaving only a toothless skull and unseeing eyes staring up at a blood soaked ceiling.

 

“Jesus…” Olivia took a deep breath and angled her head upwards, using gravity to fight off the stinging in the back of her eyes.  “How do we even know for sure it’s Samantha?”

 

Elliot rose slowly, his big hands shaking slightly as he pulled on a set of latex gloves.  “I think that’s the point.”  He looked around the room with a trained eye.  The victim was nude, laying face up in the middle of the living room floor.  From the amount of blood present it was obvious the majority of the damage had been done right here.  But there were no clothes or other personal items anywhere near the corpse.

 

“I’ll take the bedroom.”  Olivia pulled on a pair of gloves herself, moving off when her partner did not reply.

 

She walked carefully down the marble tiled hallway, staying close to the wall as she studied the floor, looking for footprints, blood drops, anything.

 

With a growl of frustration, she used the tip of her finger to push open one of the bedroom doors, her eyes going wide at the scene that welcomed her.

 

“Elliot!”

 

Stabler looked up at the sound of his partner’s voice.  He moved down the hallway quickly, knowing if there were any evidence for him to disturb Liv would have already marked it.  “What?”

 

He stepped into the bedroom to find Olivia staring at a large wooden table situated against the far wall.  Each corner of the table was taken up by a series of gears and a spindle that had a length of rope wound about it.  All four of the ropes ended in a thick leather cuff that was stained dark by sweat and god only knew what else. 

 

Next to the rack, there was a leather sling chair suspended from the ceiling.  He moved past it with a look of revulsion on his face as he realized there were several strategically placed holes in the bottom. 

 

“That’s not all of it.”  He turned to see Olivia standing next to what looked like one of those gymnastic horses that little rubber people trained on, and an ornately carved cabinet that reached from the floor to the ceiling.  “Take a look at this.”

 

As he stepped closer, Elliot realized that the fabric of the training horse was covered in hundreds of miniscule red dots.  “What the fuck?”

 

Olivia swallowed.  Reaching out, she placed one gloved finger carefully against the edge of the fabric and pushed.  Above her finger, a small half circle of tiny pin heads popped out of their hiding places, shining wickedly in the bright overhead light.  Pulling her hand away, she opened the cabinet and stepped back to show him the rows of assorted whips, paddles, flogs, and other, more ominous-looking instruments it contained.

 

“Jesus!  What the hell did we walk into here?”  He felt like being sick.

 

“Detectives?”

 

The two partners looked up to see a rather green looking rookie staring at them from the doorway.  “The M.E.’s here.”

 

            *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

“So what do you have so far?”  Elliot watched as Melinda Warner, the Medical Examiner, pulled her thermometer from what was left of the victim’s liver.

 

“One hell of a mess.”  Melinda shook her head sadly.  “Every time I think I’ve seen the worst of what people can do to each other…”  She made a note on her clipboard.  “Caucasian female, five foot seven, approximately one hundred and twenty five pounds, somewhere between thirty and thirty-five years of age.  Body temp is ninety-four point seven.”  She glanced at her watch.  “That puts time of death between approximately four and six AM.  Her forehead crinkled in confusion.  “I thought you said this was an excessive noise call?”

 

Olivia frowned.  “That’s what we were told.”  She looked around the room, finding the first officer on the scene standing off to the side.  “Murdock!”  She waved him over.  “What time did that ENC come in last night?”

 

The patrolman flushed, refusing to meet her eyes.

 

Elliot bristled immediately.  “Hey, my partner’s talking to you.  Answer the question.”

 

“I caught the call around five AM.”  He said quietly.

 

“Five?  Dispatch has your 10-97 at six eighteen.” Olivia stepped closer, her face flushing in anger.  “You want to tell me where you were for the hour and eighteen minutes that the perp used to brutalize this woman?”  The volume of her voice rose until everyone in the room was staring at her.  “Just what the fuck did you think you were doing?”

 

“Olivia.”  Elliot stepped between them, taking his partner by the arm to pull her aside.  “Come on, Liv.  Ease up.  He’s just a kid and EN complaints are a pain in the ass, you know that.  Nine times out of ten they resolve themselves and by the time the car gets to the scene there’s nothing to do-“

 

“But not this time.”  Olivia’s eyes flashed fire.  “This time a woman died, Elliot.”

 

“I know, just… the kid already looks like he’s about to vomit.  Go talk to Warner. I’ll take care of him.”

 

The brunette took a deep breath, nodding slowly as her eyes shot daggers at the young patrolman who refused to look up from his shoes.  She watched as Elliot spoke to him quietly, finally releasing her anger when the rookie left the apartment.  Turning back to the ME, she ran a hand tiredly over her face.  “Signs of rape?”

 

“Well, there’s some tearing, but no fluids present.”  Melinda packaged the swab she was holding.  “But the truth is, there’s too much damage for me tell much beyond the superficial at the moment.  I’ve got all the samples I need right now, the rest is going to have to wait until I get her cleaned up.  Any idea who she is?”

 

“Apartment belongs to Samantha Wainscott.”  Olivia watched as the shock registered on the ME’s face.

 

“We were hoping you could help us with a positive I.D.”  Elliot said as he rejoined them.

 

“Not with the body in this condition,” Melinda shook her head sadly.  “Her killer shaved off her fingertips, knocked out her teeth and took her face-“She stopped short, looking at them speculatively.

 

Olivia shook her head.  “We found blood and small pieces of skin in the main bathroom toilet.  We’re thinking the killer flushed all of it.”

 

“Oh my god…”

 

Olivia stood up quickly as the light; almost lyrical voice sent a series of shivers down her spine. 

 

Alexandra Cabot, the ADA assigned to SVU, stood in the doorway, her incredibly blue eyes wide with shock and fixated on the woman’s body lying before her.  One hand slowly rose to cover her mouth as her creamlike skin became impossibly pale.

 

“Alex!’  Olivia stepped into her line of sight, blocking her view of the corpse.  “What are you doing here?”

 

The woman shook her head, her blonde hair swaying from side to side as she blinked rapidly.  She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

 

“Alex.”  Olivia place her hand on the ADA’s arm, turning her around as she whispered, “You need to breathe, sweetheart.  I’d recommend doing it through your mouth.”

 

Alex nodded absently as she sucked in several long breaths of air. 

 

Olivia watched in admiration as the blonde’s spine seemed to stiffen and her eyes cleared.  Alex was still fairly new to SVU and she had had very little exposure to actual crime scenes, usually getting the somewhat sanitized versions of the story from her detectives or witnesses and crime scene photos that did not, and could not, ever convey the actual horror of seeing the aftermath of this kind of violence with your own eyes.

 

When she had first been assigned to the squad, the rest of the detectives had been unimpressed.  They considered her too young, too inexperienced, too arrogant and far, far too beautiful to ever last long in sex crimes.

 

Olivia had agreed to some extent, especially with the arrogant part.  The two of them had engaged in heated battles for months on end before finding a wary kind of peace with each other that had eventually grown into a strange sort of friendship.

 

And once Alex had earned her respect, Olivia found herself admiring the young woman for a myriad of reasons.  Her tenacity, her dedication to justice, her passion…

 

It was the passion that had been the detectives undoing.  More and more often she found herself sitting in the back row of a courtroom, watching Alex try her cases, even when her presence was not required.  There was something almost sensual about the grace with which the blonde moved about the courtroom.  Olivia had watched the ADA win over even the most hostile of juries with nothing but her voice and her eyes.

 

Those damn sky blue eyes that glanced over the top of her glasses every time she turned around, pinning Olivia to her bench with a look that said “I see you there, watching me.”

 

The first time it had happened Olivia had been shocked.  Her heart rate had soared and the hairs on the back of her neck had stood straight up as her body trembled from the intensity in that light blue gaze. 

 

All from a brief glance over the top of those thin black frames.

 

Soon, however, she became almost a junky for it, sometimes waiting until the trial was nearly over before slipping into her customary spot, just so that the look, when it finally landed on her, would be full of the fire and heat left over from the lawyer’s closing arguments.

 

It was a sad substitute for what she really wanted from the blonde ADA, but with a pedigree like Alex had, she knew it was the best she was going to get.

 

And that would be true even if it wasn’t painfully obvious that the woman was hopelessly straight.

 

Seeing that the blonde had herself back under control, she asked again.  “Alex, what are you doing here?”

 

The ADA looked down briefly at the warm hand still resting on her arm before answering.  “I’ve known Samuel Wainscott for years.”  She slowly unbuttoned her charcoal gray jacket, letting it lay open against the silk blouse beneath.  “When Captain Cragen called I came straight over.”  Stricken blue eyes locked onto deep brown ones.  “Olivia, what the hell happened?”

 

The detective shook her head.  “We don’t know yet.”

 

“Right now we can’t even be sure that’s Samantha Wainscott.”  Elliot said as he joined them, getting out of the way so that the body could be collected for transport. 

 

Alex frowned.  “If it is Samantha, why would her killer go to such an extreme to hide her identity after killing her in her own apartment?”

 

“I don’t know.”  Olivia’s eyebrows rose.  “But all things considered, I think I know where we need to start.”

 

Alex noticed the emphasis on the word ‘we’ and looked at her curiously.

 

“No fingerprints, no dental records, no facial recognition software…”  Olivia’s voice trailed off as understanding registered on the blondes face.

 

“Wait, hold on!”  Alex held up her hand as her eyes narrowed.  “You want me to compel DNA… from a Judge?”

 

“Compel is such an ugly word, Alex.”  The detective’s lips twitched.  “I just think the request would sound better coming from a family friend, rather than a cop.  You know how it is.  When we ask people automatically think we’re accusing them of something.  We can try collecting samples from here, but all that will prove is that they came from her.  For a definitive ID we’re going to need a familial match.”

 

All three of them moved to the side, standing quietly as the gurney with the body on it was wheeled out of the apartment.  Alex’s eyes followed it down the hall until it was out of sight.  “All right.”  She nodded.  “But he’s going to have questions, so I need everything you have right now.”

 

Elliot flipped open his pad.  “A 4-15 was phoned in to the station house around five AM.  The first officer on the scene found the door ajar.  There was no sign of forced entry and no missing property that we have been able to determine.  All of the blood and trauma seems to be localized here in the living room, although there is evidence of sexual activity in both bedrooms.”

 

“What kind of evidence?”

 

Elliot’s jaw snapped shut and he looked at Olivia expectantly.

 

“Men.”  She whispered under her breath before turning to face the ADA.  “One of the bedrooms is set up like the Maquis de Sade’s weekend getaway, Alex. Complete with a functioning rack and a seriously twisted fetish bench.  Not to mention an entire cabinet filled with every kind of paddle or whip you could ever want.”  The blonde’s eyebrow quirked up and Olivia flushed, stammering quickly, “Well… not that you would want…  I didn’t…  I just meant that…”

 

A small smile curled the corners of Alex’s lips, chasing away a little of the lost look she had been wearing since she arrived.  “It’s all right, Liv.”

 

Liv?

 

That was new.

 

Olivia stared at the blonde, feeling her pulse quicken as she became so absorbed in the pale blue of her eyes that she completely missed the woman’s next question.

 

“Olivia?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

The eyebrow went up again as Alex shot Elliot a quick look of concern.  “What was in the other bedroom?”

 

“Huh? Oh… a bed.”  The older woman cleared her throat as she flipped through her notepad, trying to ride out the flush that she knew was coloring her cheeks.  “The sheets showed signs of recent sexual activity, although the biologicals were kind of weak under the black light.  The crime lab already collected them.  The vic’s clothes were found on the dresser, folded neatly.”

 

“That’s everything?”

 

“So far.”  Elliot nodded.  “No weapon, no motive, no condom, no fluids… no suspects.”

 

Alex frowned.  “Well do me a favor would you detectives?  Find me at least one of the above.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two: Family Ties

           

 

Captain Cragen remained quiet, watching as the shoulders of the man across from him shook uncontrollably.  Alex Cabot sat to his right, her eyes firmly glued to the blotter on his desktop as they both waited for the normally stoic judge to get himself under control.

 

“Sam.”  Cragen swallowed.  “I know how hard a time you’re having with this, and trust me when I say I’m right there with you.  You know I loved Sammy like she was my own.  But right now, we need your help.”

 

Samuel Wainscott raised his head, his raw, red-rimmed eyes moving back and forth between the two people sitting in the office with him.  Nodding, he took a deep breath.  “I’ll try.”  He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and ran it across his face.  “What happened to my little girl, Don?”

 

Alex cleared her throat softly as she leaned forward.  “Right now, the best information we have is that a female victim was found D.O.A. in your daughter’s apartment.”  She shifted uncomfortably.  “Because of… extenuating circumstances, we are in need of your help to provide a positive I.D.”

 

The judge’s body stilled.  “Are you saying there’s a chance…?”

 

The ADA glanced at Cragen.

 

“Sam,” The captain said gently.  “The woman we found at the apartment, she matches Sammy’s age, weight, height, and hair color. “  He shook his head sadly.  “I don’t want to give you any false hope.”

 

Wainscott nodded, his jaw tightening.  “I understand.  Have the M.E. prepare the body and I’ll head down for the viewing.”

 

“That’s not going to help.”

 

Wainscott stared at him blankly.  “I don’t understand?”

 

“The damage is… too severe, Samuel.”  Alex reached over and laid her hand on his arm.  “We need a DNA sample from you.”

 

For a moment, Wainscott’s eyes flashed with anger, “You think I hurt my baby!”  Then they dulled again as he dropped his head into his hands.  “I could never…” he sobbed.  “She was all I had left of her mother; of everything we planned…  She shared my name, my life.  Sammy was everything to me, Don.  You know that.”

 

“I know, Sam.” The captain came around the desk and put a hand on his friends shoulder.  “We’re going to get this guy, I promise you that.  But the first step is finding out for sure that it’s Sammy.”

 

The judge nodded.

 

“Come on.  I’ll take you down to the crime lab.”

 

Alex followed them through the doorway, watching as they left the bullpen with Cragen half supporting the man at his side. Her heart heavy, she glanced around. 

 

Through the glass to her right, she saw Elliot, Fin and Munch laying out items from the evidence boxes on the table in the meeting room. It was mostly paperwork, as anything with possible forensic evidence had been taken to the lab. 

 

She wondered where Olivia was and realized that she had been hoping to run into the brunette.  The detective’s quiet strength was something she could use at the moment.

 

When Alex had first met Olivia Benson, her assessment of the older woman had been none too kind.  In fact, the descriptions she provided for her fellow officials whenever she was asked her opinion of the brash detective had been a source of constant amusement around the courthouse.

 

Wounded bear, rogue wolf, rabid bulldog; they were all terms she had used to describe the older woman at one point or another during the tumultuous period that had been their first few months of working together.

 

The latter of which inevitably led to another, less politically correct epithet to be muttered by someone else within earshot, turning the ADA’a face a ruddy pink and causing her to frown in confusion as a fierce protectiveness swept through her.

 

It wasn’t that the word ‘dyke’ bothered her so much; like most slurs the insult had little to do with the meaning of the word itself and everything to do with how it was said and by whom. 

 

What bothered her was that whoever was making the snide comment usually seemed to care very little about whether it was true or who Olivia actually was; why she did the things she did.  They wanted a box to put her in and a label to slap across her forehead.

 

Which, in Alex’s opinion, was the worst kind of small-minded there was.

 

Even through their rough inaugural period, Alex had begun to recognize the subtle complexities that made up Olivia Benson.  The huge, fragile heart she hid directly behind her gold shield, the honest, sincere compassion she felt for all the victims she came in contact with and the absolute ferocity she brought to every single thing she did.

 

Alex had seen her throw her slim body directly at a towering psychopath, with little regard for her own personal safety, and manage to subdue him just as quickly as a male officer could have.  Within the span of the same evening, she had seen her cradle a broken and battered child within her arms, talking to her softly until the little girl’s tears gradually stopped and Alex thought that her own might start. 

 

And then there was her smile. 

 

Nothing had prepared Alex for the first time Olivia had genuinely smiled at her.  It was right after she and Elliot had collared a serial pedophile, a particularly nasty piece of work that held his victims captive for a month while he systematically broke their spirit and tortured their bodies.  They had nabbed him just minutes after he had snatched his latest child and, for the first time in longer than any of them could remember, they had been able to return a victim to their family whole and unscathed.

 

Olivia had been euphoric, her happiness radiating out of every pore.  When Alex walked into the squad room to witness the interrogation, the brunette had slid an arm around her waist and hugged their hips together, laughing as she turned a megawatt grin on the ADA that changed her whole face. In the span of an instant, Olivia had gone from being a cynical sex crimes detective, to a vibrantly alive, unbelievably beautiful woman.

 

Alex had felt like all the air had suddenly been sucked from the bull pen as the older woman’s beauty shook her to her core.

 

And the playfully whispered words “Hey beautiful, come here often?”  That Olivia snickered into her ear hadn’t hurt either.

 

No, there was no label that could be found that would fit Detective Olivia Benson.  With her deep auburn eyes that seemed to look right through you, and those hands… those gentle hands that could still a victim’s fears… or set her body to shaking just by accidentally brushing against her…

 

“Alex?”  The blonde felt a slight tug on her arm and started violently as she looked down into amused brown eyes.  “You ok?”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

Olivia raised one eyebrow.  “Are you ok?  You look a little… flushed.”