Unfortunately our attempts to kidnap SVU without being caught by the 1-6 have proven fruitless thus far, so for now, we do not own this amazing television program.

The precinct was relatively silent and relatively empty; two unlikely characteristics considering the people and work that usually went on in the 1-6. Located in New York, there was never any down time. It was the city where dreams came true and occasionally nightmares for its many inhabitants.

On this particular night, the elite police squad's grounds sat only two.

One a brunette, whose fingers clicked quickly across the keyboard, scampering about for justice, working and mending the letters into words, words to get them closer to the truth. Pieces to fill the puzzle in the bounds of the law. She was a veteran. You could say she'd been put through the ringer, though that didn't accurately describe the female detective at all. It was much more complex, and one wouldn't know whether to call it an over or understatement. So many factors, so many experiences she'd been through. So many people, so many events. People that she's helped, people that she's hurt. People that have helped her, people that have hurt her. Young, old, male female, it didn't matter. Olivia Benson was blind to all of the characterstics besides good and evil. The only black and white she was worried about was the validity of facts. All of these people affected her differently, definitely, and deeply.

But all of the events served the same purpose: to shape her. To shape her into the person she was today, and the person she was meant to be.

And then there was the blonde. A little more unsure, typing slowly, cautiously, not as confident as one beside her. So she watched. She learned. And she soaked. She connected, she talked, and she kept secrets. Secrets of pettiness and secrets that carried weight, the hidden words knew no bounds, only that they should retreat into the back of her mind if she convinced them they must. She was still new to dealing with it all, and so she simply watched. She had passion, but she lacked the experience. She would get it, though, she was convinced that one day she would. She was determined that one day it would happen.

Though both women were unique and different, they were there for the same reason. The universe had cursed them both with certain things, though their lives were very different. There was an invisible string binding them together, and had them depending on each other in ways that words couldn't describe. Their paths morphed and permeated with permanent glue, a cementation of the figurative road they both walked.

They were friends; though the word didn't begin describe it. There were no words. They needed each other for different reasons, though in the end they were all the same.

They had been hurt, and they had the same coping mechanism. The same vow to help others that had been hurt like they had. They needed it to survive. Justice was like air.

And so this night the two worked around the clock, pausing slightly only to sip their teas, discuss or question details, and ask polite niceties to dull the ache of the matter and subject at hand. Without the small talk, they'd go crazy. Every single one of them.

And so it was no surprise that they welcomed the past-due interruption when there was a knock at the door somewhere around the 2:30 mark.

Olivia Benson and Amanda Rollins did not live in a horror movie, they did however reside in New York, a species and place just as rare as the horror film type.

In the place they worked and the things they did, a knock in the wee hours of the morning were not unheard of. In fact, they weren't even all that uncommon. Between victims luckily finding a safe place to go, to people far beyond the realms of your average drunken stupor who just happened to stumble in, there had been many occurrences of late troopers about the building.

That wasn't to say that it was expected. In fact, Rollins jumped slightly at the sudden sound of a knock, and Benson blinked at the sudden sound of the knuckles on the old, thick wood.

"I'll get it," Olivia said, uneventfully raking a hand through her hair in the multipurpose to clean herself up and shake the stress out from the grueling and taxing occasion of the all-nighter.

Rollins nodded, rubbing her eyes before getting back to her work, not wanting to pry on the person at the door. She realized this was silly, and that she wasn't intruding at Olivia's house or into her personal life. However, she was still relatively new. It didn't feel like her turf or place yet. And so she kept the action of searching, but told herself to calm down. This place was just as much hers now as it was Olivia's or anyone else's. She was just a much a part of the team as anyone else, male or female. She wouldn't be overpowered at the workplace. Not again. Those days were over.

"Thank you," Amanda heard the muffled voice of her co-worker as she stepped back into the room, feet heavier on the ground, her footsteps lazier from fatigue.

"Roses?" Amanda questioned, turning away from her work to admire and raise an eyebrow at the dozen or so flowers in her hand.

Olivia shrugged and wore an expression mixed with suspicion and amusement along with the simple fact of questioning. "I don't know. He said they were from an 'anonymous source.'"

"Boyfriend trying to be sweet and mysterious?" Rollins inquired, attempting to muster up a source of conversation.

"I don't see how considering I'm not dating anyone," Olivia retorted a little too harshly than the situation called for, immediately cursing herself for letting her emotions play her. She was trying very hard not to let the bitterness show of her latest failed relationship. It could never work out, she reminded herself, office relationships never did. God knows she'd learned that lesson more than her fair share of times over the years.

However, she reminded herself to remain nonchalant, poker face in tact and not to let the memory of the fling show. They weren't out of the woods yet. If anyone found out about their connection, even if it was over, both their jobs would be in jeopardy. As much as it hurt, keeping it bottled up was absolutely necessary to maintain the one good thing she still had in her life. Without her career she was nothing.

Rollins felt a redness creep into her face. Nice going Amanda, now you've pissed her off. "Sorry," she mumbled with embarrassment at her foolishness. Why the hell would she ask her coworker a question better suited for a six grader's sleepover? Why on earth would she think Olivia would want to sit around with her and speak of fairytales and romance? She cleared her throat to speak again, reminding herself not to sound like an idiot this time. "Does it have a card with it?"

Olivia let the topic drop for now, thankful that her relationships were off the feature for the time being. "Um, it says 'no hard feelings.'" Olivia wrinkled her nose. What was that supposed to mean? She scanned her mind for old flames that could be back in town. God knows those were plentiful. Any chance these were delivered to the wrong address? Any chance they were from David? She mentally slapped herself. She'd just finished convincing Rollins nothing happened there.

"That's sort of a strange message to go along with roses," Rollins said, furrowing her eyebrow.

"Yeah," Olivia said, shaking her head and setting the floral arrangement on the edge of her desk. "It doesn't really matter," she shrugged, though she was still curious.

"No, you're right. We should get back to work," Rollins replied, still playing around with the message in her mind.

Olivia nodded in agreement. "Oh, I'm out of tea. I'm going to get some more. You want anything?" She asked.

"More tea would be great," Rollins smiled, handing her her almost empty glass.

Olivia took that glass and walked back to the small drink preparation area, while Rollins zeroed in on the screen, focusing on the tick of the mouse, the words on the computer and the smell of the hot tea, trying to forget about the odd delivery.

Losing focus, she sniffed the air. "Olivia?" She called back. "Did you burn the tea or something?"

"No, I did not burn the tea," she said insulted. "It's really not complicated, you see. You simply rip open the bag, pour its contents into the-"

She was cut off by a large popping, a magnificent boom, and all of the sudden the area felt very small. The walls felt very large and thick, and everything but themselves felt very far away.

The room got hot and piping, poker red for a second before it settled into a mixture of brilliant yellow and a flaming orange. This bright color now the only color among the ashen and charcoal smoke filling the area.

"Amanda!" Olivia coughed. "Amanda, are you all right? Say something, please!" She demanded, panicking, wanting badly to run over to the source, barely shoving back her impulse enough for the rational part of her mind to take over, realizing that this would only make the situation worse in the long run. "Dammit, Rollins, talk to me!" she exclaimed, before making a run over to the emergency, at this point not really caring what happened to her, letting the instinctive side have its authority. She was now only focused on one thing. She had only one mission.

Thankfully, there was a reply before this suicide mission could occur. "Yeah, I'm good, I'm here," Rollins wheezed, raising a hand in proof, her eyes tearing, her skin scorching, and her head suffocating because of smog and the attempted processing of what had just taken place.

Olivia out a slight breath of relief as the fire died down, by some miracle not catching on anything large, the flames mostly gone. Amanda, with her shaking and throbbing hand, grabbed a water bottle from inside her purse, which she kept under her desk, and emptied its contents onto the now wilted and destroyed bouquet. Luckily, this was enough to make the fire go out completely.

They both stood there, their eyes darting back and forth from the source of the disaster and each other. They panted, their breaths heavy and exhausted, their minds racing.

Amanda made the first move to speak. "What the hell was that?" She asked, her voice quivering out of pure shock and the quickness of the event.

Olivia shook her head. "It looks like we've been set up."

"With flowers?" she voice shook.

"I assume it was a little more than flowers. Unless you know of a flower that naturally explodes," she said, attempting to lighten the mood.

Amanda rolled her eyes, but successfully cracked a smile. "And what are the chances of that?"

"I'd say extraordinarily slim."

Amanda nodded. "Not too high?"

"Not too high," Olivia clarified. "Not too high at all. All right, we'd better report this. I'll call an ambulance and request a bus," Olivia said, reaching for the phone.

"A bus? For what?" Rollins questioned.

Olivia looked away from the phone and gave her an odd look. "For you," she said in an obvious manner.

"Oh, no, I'm fine, really," Rollins brushed it off.

"Sorry, but it's precautionary," Olivia excused, holding the phone to her ear.

"Honestly, I'm fine, I don't need-"

"You're getting checked out," Olivia said with a tone, and a look, that left absolutely no room for discussion.

Of course, that wasn't about to stop Amanda from arguing.

"It's really not necessary."

"Rollins," Olivia exasperated, covering the phone, "you're going to the damn hospital. Period. Look, I get it, I do, I get it probably more than anyone. But do you know how many times I've had to go to the hospital when I said I was fine?"

"Every time?" Amanda guessed.

"Yes," Olivia said bitterly. "And I refuse to suffer alone," she said, holding the phone to her ear. "Yes, I'm calling to report a bombing," she started rattling on the phone.

SVU

"Doctor, I promise, this really isn't needed," Olivia argued, irritated, squirming reluctantly in the back of the ambulance.

"Sorry, ma'am, but it's a precautionary measure," the paramedic said, causing Rollins to give a smug and satisfied look. She too refused to suffer alone on this particular occasion, which luckily Olivia didn't catch considering she was too concerned with retorting.

"Fine," Olivia sighed, sitting back down, finishing the quick exam.

"All finished with you," the paramedic finally said to Olivia after a few minutes of testing and reassuring. "This one wasn't so lucky," he explained to the elder of the two, turning to face Rollins as if her appearance were an explanation. "She's going to be fine," he said quickly, attempting to restore confidence as fast as possible.

"Obviously," Amanda mentioned under her breath.

"However, she does have some burns and smoke damage, so we want to take her to the hospital to run some more accurate and extensive tests just to make sure, okay?"

"No," Amanda replied under her breath again.

"Of course," Olivia answered out loud. "I'll ride with her there."

"Excellent, ma'am," the paramedic replied with a smile.

The truck got to moving as Amanda turned from where she was very reluctantly lying on the gurney, though she couldn't understand why considering nothing was broken. "So, what are you thinking?" She asked Olivia. "I know you must have some theories."

"Nothing too crazy. I'm not Munch after all; I'll leave that to him. But I am thinking that it could've been a victim whose perp was never sentenced or never found, or possibly someone related to a victim."

"But why would a victim retaliate like this against the police?" Rollins questioned.

"Sometimes people don't think clearly when something tragic happens. Either they blame themselves or they blame others besides the real perp. They may try to suppress the memory or rationalize something, maybe their subconscious blaming people in ways that aren't really there, connecting things that don't' really make sense. And I'm not saying that's even what happened; I mean maybe this was random. Maybe it was a perpetrator's child trying to understand their parent's mistake, what they had done."

"So that narrows it down to…everyone?"

"Basically," Olivia said, defeated for now. "But we'll get them, we'll figure it out," Olivia bit her nail and stared into space.

"What?"

"Hm?" She snapped out of her worried thought. "Oh, nothing. I just should have known something wasn't right, should've seen something coming."

"Olivia, you couldn't have known," Amanda shook her head.

"You're right, you're right," Olivia said. "But I still should have listened to my gut telling me something was off; I mean a flower delivery at three? Come on. That's a hell of a coincidence."

"It's late. Neither of us are thinking very clearly then or now," Amanda gently said, wanting to stop the blame.

"True," Olivia accredited. She let out a small snort at remembering something. "I remember I was working late with an ADA, Casey Novak, actually. She was attacked in her office late one night. I was out to get coffee, and in the fifteen or so minutes I was gone she was attacked. I came back, and she was just," she shook her head, "out."

"Sounds awful."

"It was. I felt so bad at not being there, that I couldn't stop it before it happened to one of my best friends. I promised I wouldn't let that happen again," she reminisced.

Rollins nodded, not knowing the appropriate reaction in the midst of the stubborn woman's guilt.

"Anyway, the point of that story is that there was a flowery delivery in that attack too. Well, the perp was actually the phony delivery guy. He beat her up real bad. She's okay now, but I find it kind of ironic."

"Sometimes, men can really suck," Rollins commented.

"So can flowers."

"Touché."

"I should call the Captain," Olivia said, whipping out her cell phone and sliding the touch screen to get to the call button. "He'll have my ass if he finds out about this before I tell him," she explained.

She paused, her heart stopping for a second as a message lit up the screen.

'1 missed call from Elliot Stabler,' it mocked her.

She jabbed the red button and shook it off, calling the Captain.

And no one else.

Hello readers! Allow us to briefly introduce ourselves. Yes folks, us! (And no, I am not a schizophrenic author with multiple personalities. But good guess!) You see, this story has two writers. (Double the legitness, naturally.) Co-writers, if you will. We already have accounts on this site (So we're basically already celebrities here. {Just kidding, we're not that conceited.}), but decided to create a joint account so we could each get reviews, alerts, PM's…you get the point. Our identity's are: TheTBone and LadyRiss (thus getting TheTLadies. Clever, right? Pure brilliance, in my ever so humble opinion.), and we are both working very hard to make this story completely awesome for all of you. And since this is in the wee early stages, some feedback would completely make our worlds go round! Thanks for reading this and giving it a chance, and I hope we can hold your interest and make this story be rocking your socks! Thank you all!

~TheTLadies

*Chapter written by: TheTBone (The author's note was written by me too. Could you tell by the ADDness of it? I mean I put parentheses within parentheses for God's sake…which is like having a note within a note within a note…whoa. I'm thinking maybe a visit to George Huang would be beneficial…)

*Edited by: LadyRiss and TangoSVU

*Story idea from the genius brain of LadyRiss