Title: Foresight
Disclaimer: I don't own SVU.
"You ready?" he asks.
She raises an eyebrow.
He's never asked this before, the two of them, standing on either side of a locked door, backs to the wall, hearts pounding. To hell with hesitation. They've stormed abandoned warehouses, busy factories, apartment suites, often without waiting for backup. Guns drawn, no Kevlar, and little respect for what a wayward bullet from a suspect was capable of. She was pretty sure there was a rule against what they did, probably listed under the "Basic Safety" heading in their regs handbook. Maybe "Common Sense."
They've fired their guns, always out of necessity, but usually without disregard for the 45 pages of paperwork they need to complete to account for each discharged bullet.
She's been slashed, kicked, punched, and otherwise assaulted. She's seen him lying in a pool of his own blood, or smeared with hers. She remembers the blind panic, seeing him on the floor, struggling to breathe. How can she forget?
For this case alone, they've worked 150 hours, a third of them overtime, a sixth overnight, combing through files, interrogating reticent suspects, typing, typing, typing. Getting warrants, reading reports, dealing with the idiots that work down at narcotics, computer crimes, vice, everything short of the marine unit. He offers to cover for her the second time she falls asleep at her desk, but she waves him off. At 4am, who's there to see anyway?
They start heading down to the crib at the same time. At first, they take beds next to each other, but mostly end up lying on their sides, discussing the case. She eventually takes the top bunk of his bed, out of exasperation, and after a weak joke about her being on top, they're both out. In the morning, she's the one trying to wake him with the scent of breakfast bagels and fresh coffee.
They've probably had three quarters of their meals together in the last month, him waving for the bill as she reads eyewitness statements out loud, again, because maybe they missed something the first 20 times they went through it.
Most of their day today was spent in a stakeout, trying to look as inconspicuous as two detectives could, sitting in an unmarked car for 3 hours. Sure, there were no sirens blaring, but to the trained eye, it was probably a dead giveaway. Her leg was cramped and she was fighting to stay awake. He had noticed, and offered to let her nap while he kept watch. She told him to shut up. And good thing, because she was the one that saw the suspect returning to his apartment, suspicious package in hand.
The rest of the day was going to go like this: they were going to run in, yell "Police!", and subsequently suffer some superficial scratching and bruising in their efforts to take the bastard down. She'll have his back the whole time, but that won't stop him from looking back, making sure she's still all right, still standing, still behind him. They'll haul the guy back, do another stack of paperwork to document their find, and maybe they'll be let off early for the first time in a month. She'll pick up dinner on the way home, take a hot shower, and sleep for 15 hours straight.
Was she ready?
She rolls her eyes. "Of course."
He kicks down the door.
Backup would be there in 3 minutes anyway.
