DISCLAIMER: I don't own Law and Order: Special Victims Unit. That'd be Dick Wolf and NBC. I'm just borrowing the characters, and I promise to return them by midnight, fed, clean, and unharmed. Mostly.

Sunday, October 30th, 2011

3:31 A.M.

Olivia Benson lay on her couch, wrapped in a light blue throw. She'd gotten home from work a little over an hour ago, and still couldn't get the images of the victims out of her head. Three women her age, all looking so much like herself that Munch had started making up limericks about "Olivia Benson, the walking dead vic". They'd been working on this case for four days, and none of them had slept more than three hours. Olivia had been coughing all day and Elliot's concern, though he didn't voice it, was tangible. Cragen told her to go to bed, wanted her to sleep in the crib where she'd be safe. Safe. Yeah, okay. Each victim had been taken in broad daylight, the first from a shopping mall, the second a carnival, and the third from her kid's school play. Cragen's reasoning was that she'd be surrounded by cops. The perp was a thrill seeker, taking women from public places with as many witnesses as possible. Olivia figured home was the safest place to be. She'd argued that to her captain and he'd reluctantly agreed, but on the condition that Elliot go with her. Olivia argued that that made no sense; they could only afford to send one detective out at a time, and adding Elliot added a witness. Cragen hated to admit it, but she was right. So he had Elliot tail her home. Olivia didn't like it, but neither man would take no for an answer. He was probably still outside in his squad car, the pain in the ass.

She coughed.

"Shit," she managed when she'd stopped convulsing. She curled her knees up to her chest, and fell asleep.

Someone knocked on the door. She rolled off the couch and stood, wrapping the blanket round herself tightly. The knocks became deafening pounds, the door rattling against its security chain.

"Alright, I'm coming!" she shouted. She looked out the peep-hole into the hall outside the door and saw Elliot standing there panting, his face red.

She unlocked the deadbolt and slid the chain off; Elliot shoved the door open, ripped his sidearm out of its holster and pushed her to the floor.

She landed on her ass with a grunt, looking up at him angrily. Two shots rang out, hit a mirror behind her. Its glass shattered, the little crystals raining down on her and cutting her cheek. She threw her hands over her face as Elliot fired again, this time at something just over head.

"Hey!" she screamed, letting her arms fall and glaring at him. "What the hell?"

Elliot lowered the weapon, but didn't answer her. He walked around her, to where he'd fired the shots. Olivia turned to look over at the area, and her breath caught in her throat. Lying on the floor in a puddle of her own blood, a hole in her chest and her eyes blank and unseeing, was their current A.D.A. Sonya Paxton.

"What did you do?" she rasped, standing shakily. "What did you do?" she repeated, louder this time. She threw herself at him, punching and kicking, her heart pounding in her ears. He gripped her arms and forced her to face the body on the floor again. It was no longer Sonya; now it was her mother, and the gun was in her own hand.

"Do you see know?" Elliot shouted, and the woman on the floor changed again. This time it was herself, only she wasn't clothed, wasn't dead because of a shot in the chest; she was naked, her arms tied behind her back and her breasts heaving, covered in cuts and bruises.

"Help me..." her other self sobbed.

Olivia woke violently, gasping for air. She was drenched in sweat, the ends of her hair dripping. She ran a hand over her forehead, checked her watch. She cursed. She had slept a long time; too long. It was a little past eight. She was supposed to be back in the squad-room at seven thirty. She hurried to the bathroom and washed her face, checking her reflection in the mirror and noting the pallid color she wore. She sighed and rested her forearms on the sink edge.

8:45 A.M.

Olivia walked into the squad-room coughing, a tissue balled up in her fist and her purse slipping off her shoulder.

"Shit, Liv," Fin called from his desk.

"There once was a woman from Manhattan," Munch sang, standing. "We have no idea how this happened, but she came to work sick, the -"

"Okay, thanks John," Elliot cut in. He turned to his partner. "I signed for a package for you," he said, picking up a white box and handing it to her.

"Thanks." She carried the box to her desk and set it down, let her purse fall into her chair and sneezed.

"Gesundheit," Munch said, walking to her side.

Olivia smiled at him and opened the box. A can of chicken noodle soup, a bowl and spoon, and an envelope lay inside.

"Who's it from?" Fin asked.

"Let the woman open the card," Munch groaned.

Olivia slid her nail under the lip of the envelope and opened it. She pulled out a piece of green stationery with an olive in the upper left corner.

She cleared her throat and began to read aloud.

For my Olive Tree,

A single clue.

Within this gift

From me to you,

You'll find the first

Of many jests,

To help you on

Your maddening quest.

Follow me down

The Rabbit Hole.

If you succeed

You'll reach your goal.

I'll concede defeat,

It's you I'll hail.

But know, my love,

That if you fail,

You'll suffer immensely

Like Martha and Jan,

Forever my slave

In Wonderland.

-The White Rabbit

Munch whistled and took the letter from her.

"This guy is wacked," Fin mused, reading over his partner's shoulder.

"Martha and Jan," Elliot muttered. "Who is he talking about?"

"The first two vics," Munch replied. "It has to be."

"Okay, but why not list the third?" Elliot had opened the case file and was looking for differences between the women.

Olivia remembered something she'd read in a report and began mumbling to herself. She took the folder from Elliot and pulled the report in question from it, scanning it. She started shaking and pointed to the autopsy report for the third woman. Elliot read it and cursed, passing the sheet to Munch.

"The third woman wasn't sexually assaulted," Elliot growled, wrapping an arm around his partner and friend.

Fin picked the letter up again.

"Hey, what's he mean by 'within this gift'? It's a can o' soup."

Munch picked up the can and shook it.

"Sounds like soup to me," he announced.

Olivia pulled away from Elliot and took the can from John, walked to the coffee bar and set the can down next to the microwave. She leaned down and noticed that the can looked like its cover had been removed and then replaced. She gripped its top and pulled; it came away with a small sucking sound.

"I'm telling you, you can't trust anyone any more," Munch shouted in his conspiracy-rant tone, waggling his finger at them. "People are tampering with cans of soup now."

"Elliot, grab the bowl," Olivia said. Elliot picked up the olive green soup bowl and carried it over to her.

She took it and poured the soup into the bowl.

"It's alphabet soup," Fin observed.

"Very good, Fin," Elliot jeered. "You figure that out all by yourself?"

Fin glared at him.

Munch pulled a pen and paper from his pocket.

"Maybe the letters spell a word or something," he mumbled, handing the paper and writing utensil to Olivia.

She wrote the letters on the piece of paper and poked at the soup with the spoon from the box, making sure that all of the letters had surfaced.

When she was finished writing, she circled the letters on the paper and sat down at her desk.

"T, I, W, A, M, T, S, P, N, Z,?" Munch read over her shoulder.

"Hey, I have a question," Fin interjected. "Who knows your sick, Liv?"

Elliot took the slip of paper from Olivia's desk and started mumbling to himself.

"Uh," Olivia thought for a moment, and coughed into her elbow. "You three, I think."

"What are you thinking?" Munch asked his partner.

"Well, we know our perp must've sent this crap," Fin replied, rapping the box with his knuckle. "But she just got sick yesterday, and this box is postmarked after she left work this mornin'."

Elliot folded his arms across his chest, the paper still in his hand.
"Wait a minute, so the hump who sent this is following her?" he bellowed.

"Well, it makes sense," Munch pointed out. "His last three vics all look just like her, he's obviously building up to something here, and-"
Elliot glared at him, nodding to Olivia who was white as a sheet.

"Thanks, John, we get it," Olivia mumbled. "What do you make of the letters?" she asked Elliot.

He looked at the paper again.

"I've seen it somewhere before, like in the past week."

"Here, let me see," Munch said, taking the paper from Elliot. "It might not even be English," he announced.

Fin rolled his eyes.

"Here we go."

"Munch, it's English," Elliot snapped, taking the paper back.

"Wait," Munch barked, scowling. "Okay, it's English. Give it back."

Elliot sighed and handed the paper back to him.

"I've seen it somewhere, too," Fin told them, reading the letters to himself.

Suddenly his face lit up.

"Liv, you ever been to a place called Mitts 'n' Pawz?"

Munch got a wicked grin on his face.

"What's that?" he asked, a little too excitedly.

Fin sucked his teeth.

"Getcha mind outta the gutter, you lecherous old man. It's a pet store."

Olivia suppressed a grin.

"I was in there earlier this week, looking for a dog," she said, then coughed again.

"Sounds like we gotta go back," Fin replied, still eyeing his partner. Everyone was silent for a bit, watching Munch daydream about whatever his brain had imagined Mitts 'n' Pawz to be and Fin inching farther away from him.

Elliot looked at the two of them and laughed.

"What?" Munch asked, indignantly.

Elliot just laughed harder; Olivia snorted, then joined her partner's chuckles with giggles of her own. Fin and Munch stared at them, confused.

"Fin," Munch whispered conspiratorially.

"Yeah?"

"They've lost it, my friend."