Part 1: The Set-Up

Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.

Olivia barreled into the squad room, ignoring the muttered greetings from people she passed by, and headed straight for the counter in the back. She poured a cup of coffee, leaving it black, and chugged it down fast before immediately pouring another.

"You okay?" a fellow detective asked, arms folded and eyes widened with concern.

She nodded as she swallowed the second cup down, then poured a third and moved toward her office. "It's three in the morning," she spat. "Why am I here?" She ran a hand through her hair, cursing under her breath when her rings got caught in her chestnut locks. She yanked them free and looked at the detective to her left, waiting. "Well?"

"Fin and Amaro are bringing in a suspect," the younger woman said, clearly nervous. "They thought you needed to be here. It's the Bramson case."

She sighed, rubbed her eyes, and rolled her shoulders as she took another sip of her coffee. "Whatever," she huffed, turning again and walking through her oak office door. She slammed it behind her, dropped the foam cup on her desk, and plopped into the cushioned leather chair. She dropped her head into her hands, letting out another heavy sigh, and let one hand slowly slip down her blue button down shirt, smoothing the obvious wrinkles.

Her mind cleared, defogged, and she mentally repeated a mantra over and over, trying to wake herself up and prepare for the shit-storm she was certain was heading her way. She yanked open the top drawer of her desk, fishing around for something. Grabbing it with a victorious huff, she pulled her hair up and secured it with the clip. She slammed the drawer shut, heaving a heavy sigh, and she looked around the office. There was so much of the former occupant left behind, so much that she couldn't bring herself to get rid of, and, she knew, deep down she didn't want this job, so she refused to make the office her personal space.

Clearing her throat, she reached for the thick file on her desk, one she'd been battling with for three days. "Bramson," she spat, shaking her head. She flipped open the file and stared at the face of the young girl, Valerie Bramson, who was only two days away from her twelfth birthday when they found her body. She ran a finger along the edge of the photo, briefly thinking of the life that poor child would never live. She cleared her throat again and flipped through the pages. Statements from friends and family, suspect files and descriptions, and finally the evidence log. The one thing they'd found at the crime scene that couldn't be linked to anyone they'd interviewed. "Son of a bitch," she mumbled, trying to figure out why the lab couldn't find any solid evidence on the empty gin bottle.

She gave up, figuring she'd deal with it later, and tossed the folder back onto her desk. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift back to where she was before she was called down here, back to the warm bed, and the warm body in it. She grinned, remembering the way his hands felt as they roamed over her body and made every nerve sing. The memory was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. "Damn it," she hissed, sitting up straight.

Before she even told whomever it was to come in, the door swung open and the same annoying blonde woman she'd just walked away from poked her head into the office.

"Um, Captain," the rookie detective said anxiously. "IAB is here, the sergeant is...well, he's demanding to see you, right now. Should I..."

She didn't get to finish her question, as the door opened even wider, scaring the blonde. A tall, well built man in a grey suit stepped into the office, pulling down on his bright blue tie. He had a smug grin on his face as he looked at the young woman he'd just shoved out of his way. "Thanks, Rollins. We're good. I'll take it from here." He watched the young cop nod sheepishly as she backed out of the room and closed the office door. He let the smile fade from his face and then he moved quickly behind the large oak desk. Without saying a word, he lifted Olivia out of her chair and into his arms, kissing her ferociously.

"Morning, Liv," he whispered when he finally broke away from her. He sighed and nuzzled her nose a bit.

She narrowed her eyes, then raked her nails along his scalp, making him moan a bit. "Morning, El." She kissed him softly. "What are you doing here?"

"I got called in, a few minutes after you left," he palmed her body possessively and grabbed her ass. He rocked into her slightly, suggestively, wantonly. "Seems the guy Fin is hauling in is a cop, so I need to..."

She moaned, throwing her head back, and said, "Stop that, we're at work."

He chuckled. "I can't stop, baby. We didn't get to do this, this morning, and you know I need..."

"Well," she interrupted, "It's gonna have to wait, today, isn't it?" She kissed him one more time, biting at his bottom lip, earning a soft growl. "You..."

She was stopped by yet another knock on the door, and she rolled her eyes. "I don't remember anyone ever bothering Cragen this much."

"I also don't remember him making out with Tucker in his office," Elliot joked. He slapped her ass and kissed her one last time, then let her go. "Show me what you're made of Captain Benson," he teased, nodding to the door.

She winked at him. "You already know, don't you, Sergeant Stabler?"

He followed her out into the squad room, turned, when she did, around the bend, and together they stepped into the interrogation room. They both nodded at Fin and Amaro, the two detectives who'd been on the case, but when they saw the grimacing face of their suspect, their smirks faded.

This was going to hurt, and it was going to take a while.

Reviews are always appreciated and motivating.

Peace and Love

Jo

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