Disclaimer: Don't own SVU, any characters, or any likeness to the 16th precinct. I don't own songs. I will credit them when they appear.
Author's Note: Consider this first season. I fell back in love with Brian Cassidy recently and he's in my story. He's the main character actually. I call him Cassidy and Cass in the story because I actually prefer his last name to his first. I may call him Brian occasionally, but just try to understand. Other characters go by first names . . . for the most part.
I fuck around with Elliot's family a lot. The genealogy, I mean.
Summary: Elliot's sister and she's a genius, as well as a psychic. She shows up to help SVU with a case and old wounds must somehow heal. One must decide where the chips shall fall. And can a psychic predict the worst?
ONE OF THEIR OWN
Chapter One: Lost Vision
Dr. Monroe blew in sometime during July, the day after Cragen told the team—unaware that Elliot and her were already known to each other.
A twenty-something year old breezed into the precinct that Thursday, wearing a miniskirt and a button-down shirt, her hair brushed up in a messy bun. She smiled at Cassidy who blinked, pretending he wasn't staring at her legs. "I'm Dr. Monroe," she said, "but you can call me—"
"Angel?" Elliot asked, stepping into the room. "What are you doing here?"
"Elliot." Angel said uncertainly, her smile wavering. "Hi. I didn't know you were working here."
Cragen came in the room at the same time Munch and Olivia did. Angel stepped forward. I'm Dr. Monroe."
"Dr. Monroe?" Elliot asked in disbelief. "Where did you get that name?"
The other people in the room looked at him in shock. Angel kind of smiled. "Marilyn." She looked at the others. "My real name's Angel Stabler. Dr. Monroe is an alias."
"So, you're not a doctor?" Olivia asked, an eyebrow raised.
Elliot snorted. "She was a doctor before she could drive. Now she's a Ph. D."
Angel blushed. Cassidy grinned. "I knew I recognized you. The American Genius, right?"
"Let's get back on track, people." Cragen said, beckoning Angel toward his office.
Cassidy continued to look at her. "Wait, but that would make you—"
Elliot nodded. "My sister."
Cassidy and Much were playing catch while Olivia sorted through the case file. "She's your sister?"
Elliot nodded. "She's the baby. Sent to college when she was ten. Harvard, Yale, Oxford. She's twenty-four and still has no idea what she's going to do with her life." He sighed.
"Is she—" Cassidy began.
"Don't even think about it." Elliot said. "She's a nymphomaniac. If you tried to date her, she'd cheat on you."
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Angel was in another room looking at evidence when Cassidy entered. "So, you really can do the, you know, psychic stuff?"
Angel smiled. "Harvard thinks so." she said, running her fingers over an engagement ring. "What was her name?"
"Vanessa." Cassidy said, pulling out a chair. "So, how does this whole thing work." he asked, scanning her body.
Angel put down the ring, knowing exactly what Cassidy was looking at. "let me guess." she said slowly. "Nymphomaniac."
Cassidy's eyes went wide and he jerked his head up. "What?"
"Elliot told you I'm a nymphomaniac." Angel said calmly. "I'm correct, right?" Cassidy just stared at her. "I'll take that as a yes."
Before he could stop himself the words left his mouth. "Are you?"
Angel didn't slap him like Cassidy expected. She grinned. "I prefer the term 'sexually liberal'."
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"When I get a vision, one sense always seems to be in more tune than another. I can smell something or see it. There's one detail . . ." Angel's voice trailed off as she played with her lighter.
"What brought you to New York?" Elliot asked, trying to smile at his sister—and failing.
"I've been in New York for a year." Angel said. "I've been working on a Ph. D. in Latin."
"A year." Elliot said slowly.
"Yes." Angel said. "You're the one who stopped talking to me, Elliot." She stood up. "I'm going to grab a taxi. I'll be here at eight tomorrow."
But that's just a lot of water underneath a bridge I burned
And there's no use in backtracking around corners I have turned
Still I guess some things we bury are just bound to rise again
-Trisha Yearwood