Chapter One: New York City
Somewhere in the depths of New York City, a lost woman known as Olivia Benson wandered, exploring the sights so different from her country hometown. She flinched back as hundreds of people rushed by her, pressing against her and shoving her out of their path. This was to be expected, though. You have to expect it if you are standing in the middle of Times Square.
Olivia was a simple person with no big title; not known around the world except by her family back in a small town in Oklahoma. She lacked to look like a true county girl. No: cowboy boots; dark hair with sunlight-brightened streaks; straw hanging out of the corner of her mouth; fringed clothes or however you imagine a cowgirl would look like. She had shiny brown hair lobbed off in a short bob. Her clothes were ordinary, black pants and a red v-neck t-shirt.
Olivia looked down at the square sticky note she had folded over and over until it was now a tiny little square. She unfolded it carefully, doing her best not to rip it (anxious sweat had moistened it and made it terribly fragile). She stared at the address scrawled in black ink. She looked around her, trying to get a sense of where she was.
All the hotels looked the same to her. How on Earth could anyone tell them apart? Finally she spotted the one she was looking for. It was a crappy little place. There was no sign on the building or inside. The officer that had written the address down had failed to mention the name as well.
Soft, painfully dim yellow lights pooled in small shadows every fifty feet or so in the hallways. A black man smoking a cigarette and snorting something (most likely cocaine) sat behind the desk labeled 'manager', which was actually one of the plastics tables where you unfold the legs. The chair he sat in had been fixed together with a few rolls of sturdy duct tape, or so it looked.
The man looked up at Olivia, grunted, and tossed her a key and said, "Pay in the morning. I am busy now."
Olivia did not look back as she crept down the creaking halls to her room. At least the maids had done a little work in the room. The bed was crudely made with what seemed to be clean sheets. The floor had been vacuumed somewhat recently, and when Olivia ran her fingers over the furnishings, only a thin film of dust stuck to her finger.
Of course the hotel was unable to afford televisions, but there was one small lamp on the bed table along with a battery run clock that was two and a half hours behind and a small bible with most of its pages torn out.
Olivia looked at her measly surroundings. It would do for the night. She parked her bags and stuff by the door and slumped onto the bed. The lights inside her head were out before her head hit the pillow.
*
Sunlight streamed in from the windows. It hurt her eyes. Olivia covered them as she got up to shut the blinds. Realizing there were none, she groped around blindly for some clean clothes and made her way to the repulsive bathrooms. She carefully breathed through her nose as she changed as fast as she possibly could. She was out the door and looking presentable in ten minutes.
It was her first day on the Job. Well, she had yet to get to the Job for the first time, but she was looking forward to it.
The police station was pretty easy to find. It was a bit of a drive, but she found it eventually.
Olivia parked down the road from the station at noon (getting a rental car had been much more of an ordeal than she had expected or hoped). Steadily and with confidence she strode to the entrance and walked to the front desk.
"Go sit in the waiting room and wait your turn," the officer said, bored, and not bothering to look up. When Olivia did not move or say anything, he said irritably, "what are you waiting for? Christmas?"
"Olivia Benson, here to see a...Captain Cragen," Olivia said a little nervously.
"Alright, hold on a second." The officer pushed a button and spoke into the phone: "Captain Cragen please."
"Please wait while we transfer your call. Thank you for your time!" A mechanic voice that was too fake and cheery answered him. The officer rolled his eyes and drummed his fingers impatiently. Olivia looked at his nametag.
"Elliot," she said out loud.
Elliot Stabler narrowed his eyes on her. She was kind of pretty, he figured, but a bit young for his taste.
"Cragen speaking." Captain Donald Cragen spoke. His voice sounded distant and muffled through the phone.
"An Olivia Benson is here to see you...do you know her?" Elliot said into the phone, rudely blowing a bubble with hot pink bubble gum at the same time. She managed to suppress her giggle, but not her smile. His hard, blue-gray eyes fixed on her hazel-brown ones intently.
"She will be right up, sir," he finished stiffly. He lifted his finger from the button. "Captain Cragen will see you now, up on the tenth floor." He lifted his arm and directed her towards the elevators.
"Thanks," Olivia said, turning away and heading off.
Olivia could feel the butterflies numerating as she came each step closer to Cragen. She came across double doors with a little plaque-like sign reading "Special Victims Unit', and she went in.