If Olivia Benson was asked to name her least favorite month of the year, her answer would be simple. July. Crime rates skyrocketed along with the heat, and Noah was out of school, which meant paying for daycare. Not to mention a baseball game every weekend, and there was no guarantee that Olivia was able to make it to them.
July was hot, stressful, and officially Olivia Benson's least favorite month.
Just like any other July afternoon, the sweltering heat was making every NYPD officer miserable. Even in the air-conditioned squad room, blazers were shed and fans were cranked as high as they would go for just the smallest amount of relief. Every now and then a groan from any given desk could be heard, and it was no doubt due to the rising temperature.
Olivia sat at her desk, one fan pointed directly at her, and another oscillating on the opposite side of the room. Her navy-blue blazer was draped over the back of the leather desk chair, leaving her in her black, flowy blouse. When a soft knock sounded at the office door, Olivia lifted her eyes from her computer just as Carrisi poked his head into the room.
"There's someone here to see you, Lieu."
Olivia removed her glasses from over her eyes and sighed.
"Can't one of you take it? I don't have time to head another case right now."
Carrisi shook his head quickly.
"It's not about a case. She just asked to speak to you."
Olivia's fingers twitched on her desk as the urge to reach for the gun in the drawer to her right crept in. While there wasn't really much of a threat thanks to numerous metal detectors on the first floor, she still always got an uneasy feeling whenever someone unknown came to speak to her.
"Send her in."
Carrisi nodded and left for a second before ushering a young brunette into the office. He looked to Olivia for a second before she waved him off with a small smile. Once he shut the door, Olivia stood from her desk and got a good look at the woman before her.
Olivia guessed that she was around thirty years old. Her posture was impeccable, standing stick-straight with her hands clasped behind her back. Her feet were shoulder-width apart, and she looked directly at Olivia confidently. Olivia had worked with enough people with military backgrounds to spot one a mile away, and her sensor was blaring loudly.
"I don't think we've ever met." Olivia started. "You obviously know who I am, but who are you?"
"Camille Blake."
Olivia shook Camille's hand, her eyes drawn to the tattoos covering her right arm, extending all the way under the sleeve of her black t-shirt and just barely poking out from the collar, almost on her neck.
"What can I do for you, Miss Blake?"
"Camille, please." She insisted.
Olivia nodded once in agreement and continued her glance, extending the air of the question. For an instant, Camille's confidence faltered, and her eyes dropped to the floor before quickly being lifted to meet Olivia's again.
"I was born at Albany Memorial Hospital on April 13th, 1988. My mother was young. A college student, I was told. The day I was born I was given up for adoption and the young woman who gave birth to me went back to her life. It was a closed adoption."
Olivia's blood ran cold, and her eyes widened. She examined Camille's features. The chestnut brown hair, pulled back into a tight bun. High, chiseled and proud cheekbones. Emotive, chocolate colored eyes that were glistening with tears. Camille cleared her throat and continued speaking.
"Based on your reaction, my guess is you know what I'm getting at."
Slowly, Olivia nodded, still unable to form any sort of coherent speech.
"You were that college student, Lieutenant. Which makes me your daughter."
Emotion flooded into Olivia, and her brain short circuited. She opened her mouth to speak once, twice, three times before her eyes fluttered shut for a moment and she released a slow, heavy breath.
"I need you to leave." Olivia said, finally.
"What?"
"I said I need you to leave." Olivia was surprised at how harsh her voice sounded, and going off of Camille's reaction, she wasn't the only one.
Before Camille could respond, Olivia continued.
"Do you not understand what the words 'closed adoption' mean? How the hell did you even find me? I specifically wanted to prevent this from ever happening. You have no right coming here, where I work, and announcing that you're the child I gave up thirty years ago. Now, I asked you to leave. Goodbye, Miss Blake."
A single tear rolled down Camille's cheek as she steeled herself, straightening her spine more, if it was even possible. Her jaw clenched, and she inhaled sharply.
"Sorry, Lieutenant." Camille choked out, her eyes burning into Olivia's.
The second Olivia had stopped speaking, she had regretted everything she had said. What was wrong with her? Olivia had spent almost ten years trying to find the very woman standing before her after she got out of college, and now she was blowing it.
"Have a good day."
Just as Olivia began to backpedal on her words, Camille turned swiftly on her heel and walked out of Olivia's office. Every fiber in her being was screaming at Olivia to go after Camille, but her feet stayed glued to the ground. She could see Camille's retreating form through the gaps in the blinds on her window, and within seconds, she was gone.
Two months later, Central Park was beginning to fill with people as Camille was finishing up her mid-day run. It was just past two in the afternoon, and the beaming sun and blistering heat had her dripping with sweat. Her grey Army t-shirt now several shades darker than it had been an hour earlier. Normally, Camille would have cut her run short in heat like this, but ever since her visit with Olivia, she found that the only thing that could effectively clear her mind was 11 miles a day.
When her lungs began to scream painfully, Camille slowed to a walk. With her hands on the top of her head, breathing deeply, she paced back and forth. Five strides to the left, five to the right. As her breathing finally regained its normal pace, a high-pitched shriek caught her attention. Camille lifted her gaze just in time to see a tall, lanky man grabbing at a little girl. They were in a clearing about fifty yards away and nobody seemed to notice what was happening. As soon as Camille saw the man place a hand over the little girl's mouth and lift her with his free arm, she sprang into action. The sight of Camille sprinting across the field must have gained the attention of a few bystanders who began to run after her. By the time Camille caught up to the man, he had his back turned to her with the little girl in his arms, her light blonde ponytail dangling in the air. Camille's military training kicked in and she lunged for the man, her arm looping around his neck and ripping him to the ground.
The girl screamed as he let go of her and she fell to the ground. Camille rolled with her arm still around the man's neck, putting him face down under her. She looked up for a second to make sure the girl was safe, finding her in the arms of who Camille assumed was her mother.
When Camille brought her head back down the man under her thrusted his up into her nose, causing a loud crunch and a gush of blood. When her eyes pooled with tears, Camille faltered in her grip and the man was able to push her off of him.
Police were now approaching as Camille pushed herself up from the ground quickly enough to brace herself for the man lunging at her. This time, the knife that he pulled from his waistband was in his hand. Camille's back came in contact with the ground and his hand wrapped around her neck, squeezing hard.
"Shouldn't have gotten in my way, bitch." He spat as the edges of Camille's vision turned black.
An instant later, he plunged the knife into her abdomen.
The police were still yards away, their guns drawn and yelling. Camille watched as he looked up at them, and then back down to her before releasing a frustrated growl and running for the collection of trees surrounding the park.
When his hand left her neck, Camille drew in an urgent, labored breath and placed her hands over where the knife had been just a second earlier, warm, crimson blood flowing from between her fingers. A uniformed officer dropped to his knees next to her, his hands laying over hers.
"You're okay. Help is on the way." He assured her, his voice rushed.
Camille could have laughed at the hint of panic in the young officer's voice. Sirens filled the air as an ambulance and other police cars pulled onto the grass. EMTs rushed down the hill with a stretcher, and behind them was a familiar figure. Olivia Benson rushed to the little girl and her mother, trailed by a younger, blonde detective that Camille didn't recognize. Her head rolled to watch as Olivia put herself between the traumatized little girl and Camille. The little girl had been screaming, watching as Camille fought the man who tried to take her.
As the EMTs replaced the officer, holding pressure on the stab wound, and lifted Camille onto the stretcher, Olivia glanced over her shoulder as she walked away from the scene. Camille watched as Olivia's jaw dropped and her eyes widened in horror. Olivia took one step toward Camille, but the blonde detective's hand on her arm and quizzical look drew Olivia back in. Her eyes, however, never left Camille's.
The eye contact between the two brunettes was broken when Camille was loaded into the ambulance and the doors shut behind her, speeding off to the hospital.
Olivia strode into Mercy hospital, directly to the nurse's station.
"Excuse me." She interjected, raising her badge. "I'm looking for Camille Blake."
A redheaded nurse looked up from her paperwork. Her eyes lingered on Olivia's badge before their eyes met.
"Room 385. Down the hall and to the left."
Olivia nodded and thanked the younger woman before moving down the hallway. It took her about fifteen seconds to get to Camille's room, but it felt like a lifetime. When she got to room 385, Olivia raised her hand to the closed door and hesitated before knocking. She took a slow, deep breath, and knocked twice.
"Come in."
Carefully, Olivia opened the door and stepped into the room. Shock overtook Camille's face when her eyes landed on Olivia. Her jaw clenched slightly before her features relaxed again. Olivia's eyes grazed over Camille, who was propped up in her bed, sitting over the blankets and wearing a sports bra and black sweatpants. With her torso exposed, Olivia got a full look at the tattoos covering most of her upper body and disappearing into the waistband of her pants. Her view of the tattoos, however, was obstructed by the crisp, white square of gauze that was laid over her stomach. Olivia's eyes then moved up to the two circular scars littering the area just below Camille's collarbone. The second she saw them, she recognized them as gunshot wounds, and her heart plummeted into her gut.
When Camille cleared her throat awkwardly, Olivia realized she was staring.
"Can I help you, Lieutenant?" Camille asked, a lingering bitterness in her voice.
Olivia looked to Camille's face, trying not to flinch when she noticed her two black eyes and the stitches sitting on the bridge of her nose.
"I need to talk to you about the kidnapping you stopped yesterday." Olivia stammered, a nervous sweat breaking at the back of her neck.
Camille nodded and pushed herself further up on the bed.
"Is the girl okay?" She asked, worried.
A small smile played at the corner of Olivia's lips at the question.
"She's a little shaken up, but she'll be just fine thanks to you. Her name is Nora, and she's asked to see you once you get better."
Camille released a grateful sigh and smiled.
"I'm glad she's okay."
Olivia pulled the chair that was in the corner closer to the hospital bed and sat down as she pulled out a small notepad and pencil.
"Can you describe the man for me?" She prompted.
After thinking for a moment, Camille spoke.
"He was about six feet tall, maybe 150 pounds. Early thirties. Light brown hair, green eyes. I think I saw a scar on his chin."
"Great." Olivia praised as she wrote down what Camille was saying. "Did he say anything to you?"
"All he said was that I shouldn't have gotten in his way."
A brief silence fell over the room, and Camille felt the need to fill it, but had no idea what to say. Before she could stop herself, words spilled out of her mouth.
"I don't have some hero complex if that's what you're thinking."
Olivia looked up, surprised. Her brow furrowed as she closed her notebook and placed it back in the pocket of her blazer along with her pen.
"I don't think that." She insisted.
"I was in the Army. Protecting people is what I do, that's all. I saw that man trying to take Nora, and I stopped him."
"I know. You probably saved Nora's life."
Camille shook her head quickly.
"Don't say it like that. It adds more weight to what I did."
"But it's the truth."
"I just did what was right." Camille almost barked.
Olivia was taken back by the intensity of Camille's insistence. She decided that redirecting the conversation a little was the best option.
"So, you were in the Army?"
Camille swallowed hard and nodded.
"Special Forces, Master Sergeant."
"Is that why you're out?" Olivia inquired, pointing to the two bullet scars she had discovered earlier.
"Yeah." Camille responded shortly.
"For how long?"
"Two years."
"What do you do now?"
"I'm a firefighter."
"How did you- "
"Look." Camille interrupted. "You made it fairly obvious that you want nothing to do with me two months ago. So why the interest now?"
Olivia sighed, her shoulders slumping as she looked to the floor.
"Right after you left that morning, I knew that I had made a mistake." She admitted. "I tried to find you after I got out of college, but I couldn't. I figured you were adopted and had a family."
"I was adopted. They were wonderful people, and great parents. But they died when I was four and I went right into the foster system. I lived in a group home until I was 18."
Olivia's heart broke and she was filled by both shame and rage at the universe for taking her daughter's happy life away.
"Do you think we could at least get to know each other? I have a son. His name is Noah, and I think he would really like to meet you."
"You have a son." Camille responded, her tone making it obvious that she was hurt by the information.
Olivia nodded.
"I always wanted a child… just not when I was eighteen. I wanted to give you your best shot."
Camille nodded in understanding and swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat.
"Well, I'm going to have quite a bit of time off of work until this heals, considering I can't even lift ten pounds for the next month. So, I'm free whenever."
Olivia smiled brightly and took out her phone. She handed it to Camille, who put her information into Olivia's contacts. Just as Camille handed the phone back to Olivia, three burly men came barging into the room.
"Blake!" One of them yelled, unnecessarily announcing their presence.
"Jesus, Gill, shut the hell up." Camille laughed, shaking her head.
Olivia recognized one of the men as a firefighter captain, and the FDNY shirts that the other two were wearing made it pretty obvious how they knew Camille.
"Guys, this is Lieutenant Olivia Benson, NYPD." Camille introduced. "Olivia, this is my Captain, Frank Destasio, and the two meatheads are Gill and Jimmy. They're in my company."
"It's nice to meet you all." Olivia responded, shaking their hands.
"How do you know our little Cami here?" The shortest one, Jimmy, asked.
"She just had some questions about what happened." Camille interjected. "And don't call me Cami unless you want to be the one in the hospital bed."
Olivia caught on to Camille's urgency in keeping who she actually was private, and understood.
"Well, I'll leave you four alone." Olivia said, turning to Camille who looked a little disappointed.
"I'll be in touch." She promised, earning a small smile from Camille.
After returning the smile and offering the three men a quick goodbye nod, Olivia left.
She had no idea what she was going to tell the rest of the squad.
I hope you all liked it! Let me know if I should continue this story or not. I'm a full-time college student so I don't have a lot of free time, but if you like this story, I'll make some time for it. Comments are greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading!
-Cam