There are no words to describe how Emily felt the second she found out she was adopted. All this time, and she was a detective too. You'd think she would have put two and two together. But instead she found herself at her mother's death bed as she told her about the woman who placed newborn Emily in her arms. So many things that hadn't registered in the past made perfect sense now. She didn't quite look like either of her parents, or even the rest of her family. She would search and find similarities that weren't really there to feel connected. She's always felt out of place, but just thought she was awkward. She took a deep breath and held it, a subconscious thing she'd done ever since her rape. Her therapist said it was her body's way of holding onto reality. It just made her feel worse. A second later and she released her breath, kissing her mother's hand.
"Hand me my purse," her mother said, her breath shallow and raspy.
Emily reached without getting up for her mother's rather large faux leather purse and sat it gently by her side, a yellow envelope poking out of the top.
"Take this." Her mother said, gently pulling the envelope out, her hands shaking the whole time.
Emily grasped it in her hands. She had a feeling she knew what it was and was terrified to open it. As she sat there holding her mother's hands and looking at this yellow packet of secrets, the machines linked to her mother began their shrill chorus.
"Mom! What's wrong?" She said, tears forming and streaming down her face. With her mother's purse and the envelope in her hands, she was pushed from the room. Forced to watch as they tried and failed to resuscitate her mother's lifeless body.
That was it. No goodbye. No hug. Just an envelope and a stroke.
She wasn't even sure how she got home, but she was already sitting on the couch, the envelope and purse on the coffee table in front of her. She picked the envelope up and turned it in her hands, still not sure if she was going to open it, or even if she wanted to. She slid her finger under the tape gingerly, peaking inside to see just what she suspected, her original birth certificate. She slid it out just enough to reveal her birth name. Emily Benson. Benson? What kind of last name was that? Then she saw it. Her birth mother's name, Serena Benson. She looked at the name, said it out loud. This was the woman who gave her up. Tears began to well in her eyes before she caught a glimpse of the box marked twin on the paper. Her eyes shot open.
She was a twin? Was she put up for adoption too? Does she know? And what if it's a he? So many questions that she needed answers for were wreaking havoc inside her head. She knew exactly what she needed to do. A google search quickly brought her to an article. Her mother had been one of a series of rapes around Hudson University. Her tears ran hot down her face seeing the photo of a mother she never got to meet.
She quickly shifted her attention to the obituary, listing a daughter as her only living relative. Her biological mother had kept her sister. Emily quickly entered her name into the search bar and her own face, seemingly, popped up in several news articles. It was uncanny just how identical they were. They'd even cut their hair similar on multiple occasions. She was also a detective, what were the odds?
The next few days she pieced her biological family tree together. To say it was shocking finding out her father was a rapist was an understatement. Her brother was actually a half brother who was accused of rape twice and acquitted, but then charged with custodial interference. Ironically, she wasn't too surprised he had a record since she dug up that her rapist father raised him. She quickly figured out which precinct her sister worked at, did some digging and found her sisters home address. She paced and debated whether she should call her or email her. But she just couldn't bring herself to dial the number or write the email. What do you say? Did she even know about her? How would she react? She finally decided she couldn't do this over the phone or email. She needed to meet her sister in person. Only then would she believe her and be willing to listen. She knew she would be so dismissive and skeptical if she got a call about some unheard of, long lost twin sister.
Emily scrambled through flights to find one for the next day. She called work, explained what was going on to her captain, and was on the first flight to NYC the next morning. The flight was torture, and long, but the more she thought about what she would say or do, the time seemed to speed up. The cab ride there seemed so fast too.
She wrung her hands and paced in the hallway outside the NYC apartment. She still didn't know what she was supposed to say to her. Hell she didn't even know her sister existed before that week. Being a detective, she found her pretty fast after tracking down her birth mother, whom she was disappointed to find had passed away some years before. She wasn't quite sure what she would say. From her birth certificate and other documentation, it suggested they were identical so she also didn't want to freak her out. She paced a couple more steps and then turned to knock when the door flew open, Olivia Benson stood with her weapon drawn and eyes widening by the second.