Title: The New Guy
Author: ZombieJazz
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law and Order SVU and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The characters of Zach Brady has been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.
Summary: The powers-that-be at One Police Plaza decide to bump Manhattan SVU up to six and get everyone paired off. It means a new face appears in the squad room - and causes some major adjustments for everyone, as the detectives work to establish new relationships in their evolving unit.
Olivia was looking that her cell phone as she walked into the squad room. A report from the Medical Examiner's Office about a rape kit they had in had just popped into her inbox on her way upstairs. She was already looking over the results even before getting to her desk and waiting for her computer to boot up.
She noticed, though, how unusually quiet it seemed in the bullpen – especially for a Monday morning. There was usually chatter going on about people's weekends, about anything that got caught over their days off, about what needed to get done on cases in the coming week, about everyone's schedules – if anyone was going to be in court or off at some sort of training or conference. People were usually up from their desks – over at the coffee machine or talking to their colleagues or even over at their main little multimedia area briefly shooting the shit before getting down to business. There wasn't any of that white noise going on that morning, though. It actually seemed almost too quiet. They could probably drop a pin in there and someone could hear it.
She glanced up from her phone and took in the room. Everyone was there already – all sitting at their desks and all looking silently, though almost reluctantly, in the same direction … towards her desk. Fin seemed to notice her out of the corner of his eye and looked to her and almost gave this inaudible, little sigh before his eyes tracked back to where they were. So her eyes followed.
Standing at the desk across from hers was a man … really, she'd label him as a boy; he looked like he hadn't even started shaving yet. His dark hair was almost cut in a cop-appropriate style, though it was clear he'd been growing it out from a patrol officer's crop-cut and attempting to do something with the strands that were there – swishing and styling them in a way that even further highlighted how young he was. As if he wanted to accentuate his youth even further – rather than being dressed like any kind of detective, he looked more like some sort of hipster. He had on glasses with a black wide-rim on them. The sleeves of his slim-fitting light blue shirt were rolled up to his elbows, which left a brightly-coloured tattoo sleeving at least his right forearm clearly visible. He'd for foregone a belt and instead on thin black suspenders fastened onto his dark jeans. He apparently thought that was flood was coming and had the pants rolled up – though likely more to show off his military-style boots than to avoid rising waters. He didn't have a tie on – but Olivia wouldn't be surprised if he had a bowtie to pull out from somewhere and complete the look. Maybe a bloody newies cap too.
She'd literally stopped in her tracks to gawk at the new person in her space – in Elliot's old space. The desk that had been allowed to sit vacant for more than a year-and-a-half as everyone else was shuffled around and slotted into other available spaces. Even in an absence that long, this suddenly felt like the ultimate intrusion. Her ex-partner – a good, experienced cop – was having his old space being taken up by a man that looked like he'd barely exited adolescence. It was insult to injury in all the changes that had happened in the squad over the past … almost two years. Even more insulting – it didn't seem like Cragen had given anyone in the squad that this new face was arriving. He definitely hadn't mentioned anything to Olivia.
The man … kid … glanced up at her, likely sensing new eyes on him and then briefly scanned the rest of the detectives before wordlessly going back to unpacking a banker's box he had plopped on the desk. It looked overflowing with stuff – junk. Though, God knew what the hell it could be. A cop that young couldn't have that many files to truck around with him as he was moved between units. And bringing that many personal items into the bullpen? It just seemed ridiculous.
He looked like a sixth grader who'd suddenly got accelerated through middle school and landed in the eleventh grade at high school. The likely initial excitement was gone now that he was in the classroom and realized that he hadn't even hit puberty yet and all these people around him were a lot bigger, smarter and more intimidating than he might've expected. He was about to taking a whooping that he hadn't anticipated in thinking that he was some sort of smarty-pants. Maybe he was in junior high. But this wasn't junior high. This was the Big Leagues.
Olivia walked over to her desk – placing her coffee on it a little loudly and still looking at him even as she moved to slip off her coat.
He looked up at her again. "Hi," he offered, probably a little too softly. "Zachary Brady," he sort of gestured to himself in an introduction and then stuck out his hand.
She didn't take it. Even his name made him sound like an infant, she thought.
"Benson," she said – and nothing more, dropping her coat onto the back of her chair and moving straight for Cragen's office.
He looked up at her as she stepped inside and loudly closed his door and glared at him, pointing through the window. The young man had followed her movement and she dropped her hand as it was apparent he could see her pointing at him – as if he didn't already know she'd stormed into the office about him.
"What is that?" she demanded of Cragen. "Because that better not be what I think it is."
Cragen sighed and shrugged, giving a small shake of his head and looking at his desk before meeting her angry eyes.
"One P.P. wants us at six – all paired off. It's who they sent over. I didn't have a say in the matter."
"What is he? Twelve?" Benson demanded.
Cragen sighed and looked down to a file he had open on his desk. "Twenty-seven," he told her. "He'll be 28 in a few months, by the looks of it."
He tossed the personnel file across the desk at her and she snagged it up and looked at it. The picture included in the file made him look even younger, if that was possible. She started flipping through the available paperwork that her Captain was allowing her to see, which wasn't much. It was a barebones file he'd handed to her.
"He is NOT a detective at 27," she spat as she looked at what was there.
"Christmas bump," Cragen said flatly. "Meritorious appointment. He was a key player in the arrests on the Wellsley case in the summer."
Benson glanced up at him at that. "That string of homicides in Hell's Kitchen?"
Cragen nodded. "Yeah."
She flipped through the papers some more. "Still …" she said. "Has he even done his five?"
Cragen sighed. "No. He's still technically a rookie. But he's done his three, Liv. He could've done his exams – and he probably would've made them easily. I recall you having not yet reached your 30th birthday when you landed in here."
She glared at him at that. "I'd done my time. I wasn't that green," she looked out the window again. The guy was manipulating what looked like a Batman action figure and trying to get it to sit on top of his computer monitor. That just made her gape at Cragen even more. "Do you see that?" she demanded.
Cragen came closer and looked out the window and shrugged. "John has lots of toys and junk on his desk too. So do you."
"An action figure?!"
Cragen just shook his head at her. "He's who got sent up. We have to deal with it."
"Twenty-seven. Still a rookie. Is he rat squad?" she demanded to know.
"No," Cragen said flatly.
"Would you know if he was rat squad?"
"Yes," Cragen said.
But Olivia didn't think that was true. If they were keeping closer tabs on what was going on with SVU – especially after Cragen and Amaro's embroilment in the spring, they sure as hell wouldn't be publicizing it. It'd be undercover eyes on them. Collecting little tidbits of information about their work. And, really, the only situation where Olivia could think of knowing people who were handed their gold shields that young – or even pulled right of the academy – were people recruited by the IAB.
"If he's not IAB – who the hell is his family? Who are his connections? Who's his hook?" she asked even more sternly. She didn't like this. If it wasn't IAB – he knew someone and was being given a free ride. She wasn't sure which concept pissed her off more: being spied on or dealing with a lazy-ass easy-rider who wasn't going to be there for the right reasons.
"Olivia, he graduated at the top of his criminology class at Northeastern. He came out of the police academy with flying colours. He's been on P.O. for more than three years – almost four - he's been decorated, received commendations and he comes highly recommended."
"State senator? City counselor? Commissioner's neighbour?" she asked. "Who's his rabbi?"
Cragen ignored her question. "And, he volunteered to be here – just like everyone else."
"Because he wanted his gold shield – before his due," she mumbled.
"I don't think so," Cragen said with a headshake. "And it's technically only a silver shield for now. We've got 18 months to scare him away – or to find reason to send him packing."
"Here's one: We are not a babysitting service," Olivia spat at him.
He nodded. "That we are not. But everyone who comes through here has to start somewhere. All of you have had your first days, first weeks and first years here. And it wasn't too pretty for any of you. Yourself included."
"This unit has already paid our dues – we've taken on two new guys," she said with exasperation. "We've barely got them up to speed and they're dumping a fucking child on us?"
Cragen shrugged. "They want us at six – and they thought having someone younger on the squad may be beneficial for us."
She glared at him at that. "We've got Amanda. And Nick."
She knew that they were both in their 30s – that Nick was actually pushing 40, and that neither of them had come to them as green as the kid outside the door. But still – they were young. They were fresh faces and fresh eyes in the squad. They weren't completely jaded yet and they'd been there long enough they'd had their opportunity to runaway with their tail tucked between their legs, but hadn't. They'd be around for a while now. They didn't need to get someone else up to speed – especially a kid barely out of the academy.
"One P.P. thinks having a younger detective may be beneficial for us when we're dealing with all the social media crap and Internet with the kids. This guy knows it. He uses it. He's done courses in it at school – and training at College Point."
She gaped a bit more and rolled her eyes. "Isn't that what Computer Crimes and TARU are for? Why do we need a specific guy with us?"
"Might be good to have a younger face when we're dealing with the teenagers and university kids," Cragen offered as an alternative. "Someone for them to relate to."
"Oh … but no one else is going to take him seriously. He looks like he should be in high school. That's likely being generous. Can you imagine him having to deal with some of our victims? Their families? Perps in an interrogation room?" The annoyance in her voice was becoming more prominent. "Do you see what he is wearing?"
Cragen tilted his head and shrugged. "I'm going to talk to him about his attire – just like I did with Nick."
"And his tattoo?" she spat again.
"Elliot had visible tattoos too, Liv," Cragen said a bit more softly.
"NOT LIKE THAT," she spat again. "I thought all the recruits after 2007 couldn't have their ink visible?"
"In uniform," Cragen said. "He's not in uniform, Olivia. He's a detective now – and there was nothing deemed offensive about the depiction on his arm back when he was recruited and passed medical. If it becomes a problem – I'll talk to him about keeping his sleeves down."
She sighed and watched him out the window again. It looked like he was stacking some university textbooks and law books, along with some NYPD manuals, in between the metal bookends on the desk now. She was sure all of that reading material wouldn't be touched again until he was packing his box to get the hell out of there – hopefully sooner, rather than later.
"So you're putting him with Munch?" she asked in her outward gaze. John was the only one of them not paired off at the moment.
"No," Cragen said flatly again with a headshake and a gaze that had shifted to the floor.
She spun around and looked at him. "Oh, no," she said and shook her head hard. "No, no, no."
"Olivia …"
She held up her hand. "I already broke Nick in. I've done my duty. Nick and I are fine right now. Our closure rate is up. Fin's done his time with Amanda too. Let John have a turn. When's the last time he had to take on a newbie? Fucking Cassidy?"
"I don't think him and John will jive, Liv," Cragen said and met her eyes. "He's a soft-spoken kid."
She threw her hands up in the air. "Great. Just what we need. A soft-spoken detective in SVU? If his appearance wasn't going to be enough to surmount in getting anyone to take him seriously."
"You can be pretty soft-spoken with the victims when you want to be too, Olivia," her Captain said. "Maybe soft-spoken was the wrong word. He comes across as very … respectful."
She let out a hard exhale and looked at the ceiling. "Who are you going to partner with Nick?"
"John … for now," he told her.
She shook her head. "That won't be a good pairing. Why not put the new guy with Amanda? Let John and Fin partner back up. She likes all that computer and Internet crap anyways."
Cragen nodded. "I thought about that. But if their knowledge sets and skill sets turn out to be similar – I think it would be good to spread that around the unit."
"HE'S 27! What kind of knowledge or skill sets can he have?"
"He's an intelligent guy, Olivia – and hard working. Personable. He didn't just end up here," Cragen told her sternly. "Like it or not – he somehow earned it and someone thought he should be here."
He could tell she didn't believe that. That she'd be out there digging into who his family was and who his C.O. was and who his rabbi was – and trying to figure out just who the kid knew or blew to get his shield and into their squad room.
"I'm going to shop him around," Cragen said. "I'll try him with Rollins. But she's our youngest. I'm not sure she's ready yet to take on the mentor role for a young detective. I know you are. So HE IS starting out with you. Over the next few weeks – we'll shift everyone around and we'll see what works for the unit."
She sighed harder and looked at him. "Captain …" she started to protest again, but Fin tapped on the door and then opened it.
"Liv, you're slated as catching today, huh?"
She looked at him and rubbed at her eyebrow. "Ah, yeah," she allowed.
"We've got a call about a 261 up on the Upper West Side."
She sighed again and looked at the ground. "OK, yeah, I'll be right out."
Fin nodded and left the door open as he returned to his desk.
"Captain …" she started again. But he held up his hand to stop her.
"This was never up for discussion," he said. "Go … and take the kid. The sooner he gets his feet wet – the better."
She exhaled harder and shook her head at him but she knew it had reached the point that any further argument wasn't going to get her anywhere at the moment. Arguing and putting off getting to the scene would only agitate Cragen and make him hear her even less. So she sighed heavily and then returned to the bullpen, grabbing her coat off the back of her chair. The kid was eyeing her again but looked away as she glanced at him.
"Coming?" she almost barked at him.
His eyes shot back up at her at that. "Ah, yeah …" he stuttered and started to move, tripping over the now empty box that he'd placed on the floor next to his desk.
Olivia heard Rollins let out a bit of a snorted laugh at the young man's stumble and caught her eyes. But the younger female detective likely saw the glare there and looked back down to her work. It wasn't like she hadn't been bright-eyed and brushy-tailed in her first days on the job when Olivia had been stuck with her too.
"You might want a coat," Olivia said flatly as she collected her things and shoved them into her pockets, ignoring how much the kid was stumbling around as he tried to kick the box under the desk.
She knew he was nervous – but this wasn't raising her opinion on his abilities out on the street. She didn't much care that he'd work patrol and had street experience. Until she saw something out of him more than what she was seeing in the squad – she wasn't going to cut him much slack. So he better buck up and quick. SVU wasn't for the faint of heart. Harden up – or leave.
"Ah … yeah …" he mumbled again and grabbed at his brown leather jacket and moved to follow after her.
"And a notebook and pen … and your phone …. your badge and weapon," she added and started to walk away.
"Ah … yeah …" the kid stuttered again and she could hear him rustling around on his desk – and Rollins snort again. She was clearly amused by the kid's nerves and awkwardness. Olivia wasn't – and she wasn't feeling that impressed with Rollins at the moment either.
She glanced behind her and the kid was fumbling around with clipping his holster onto his pants' waist – another reason to get a fucking belt, she almost wanted to call at him. But she left it. He grabbed his badge that he had on a chain and flung it over his neck and started after her again.
He got over to where she was waiting rather impatiently in the doorway of the squad. She could see the rest of her colleagues still watching the show – like this kid was some sort of circus act and now she was the ringmaster.
"Ready?" she asked him bluntly.
He nodded somewhat eagerly but a little unsurely. "Yeah," he said.
She looked at him. Fuck. He was so young. She'd thought Rollins had been young when she'd ended up there at 31. Then Olivia had to remind herself that she hadn't even been that old when she volunteered to come over to SVU. But 27? The kid was barely out of college. Barely out of the academy. He may have seen some things on patrol – but SVU was different. This could make or break him. How ready for it could someone be at 27? But how ready could anyone ever be for this job?
"Breathe Brady," she told him pointedly.
He nodded again. "Yeah," he agreed.
"No – really breathe," she told him.
He looked at her for a moment and then exhaled. Even she felt like he'd been holding his breath forever as the air escaped his lungs. She could feel the nervous energy and jitters radiating off him. That's not what she wanted beside her at a crime scene or while talking to a rape victim. She hoped she wasn't going to be stuck with this kid very long.
"OK," she sighed. "Let's go."