Disclaimer: Don't own them
Summary: Everybody is convinced that there family is crazy, that something is just not right. Most likely the feeling will not last and you realize how lucky you actually are. What happens when your original theory is correct? What do you do then? How do you keep this monster inside of you at bay? How will Olivia deal with her inner demons, who will she turn to? O? or OE…it is undecided.
Black and White
The detective stirred. A light sleep disturbed. Her nightmare overtook her, controlling her emotions, her abilities, and her life. She lost all control as her mind drifted from its "level headed" sanctuary. An alarm clock went off. Her eyes opened. The nightmare was over. Now her life could resume its normal pace.
Detective Olivia Benson of the 16 precinct located in Manhattan New York reluctantly rose from her warm bed. She was in shorts and a "wife-beater" forced by the hazy summer morning and the broken air conditioner in her window. What a wonderful start to a heated day.
She gracefully walked across her dark bedroom, past her un-used kitchen covered in cobwebs, and straight to her clean bathroom. Olivia reluctantly flipped the switch, momentarily blinding her. As her eyes focused, her gaze traveled to her reflection. She looked young, younger then her age, but realization began to take over. The detective wasn't getting any younger, and the job didn't help. She began to realize how like her mother she was becoming. Olivia began to rely on vices to keep her sane, not alcohol, not cigarettes; in fact this vice was quite recent. The job became her obsession, her vice. The only thing that kept her alive was the chase, the capture, and the occasional kill. Her hand traced the lines of her face, the bags under her eyes, her chapped lips. She wasn't getting any younger, that was for damn sure.
A loud ring broke her trance. A loud pounding echoed in her ears. Olivia knew who it was, another of her dangerous vices. She opened the door, and there he charged. Olivia pictured a raging rino, closing in on his kill.
"Where the hell did you go yesterday, Olivia?" The man yelled. "You walk out on me, without a word." The mysterious character got dangerous close to the mellow detective. He was tall at 6'5", built too. Jamie was his name, and women were his game as Olivia came to find out.
"I had a case." She replied with absolutely no emotion. She stood her ground, not blinking, barely breathing. There he stood, breathing heavy and steaming.
"You walked out on me…" He repeated. "NO one, and I mean no one, walks out on James." Olivia rolled her eyes. He raised his hand to her face, but thought better of it. He took a step back. "Bastard Brian lied to me, said she was easy." He mumbled under his breath. Olivia grinned.
"Funny…" She replied. "Brian told me, you can never get hard…" That set the jackass off. He ran at her and pushed her against the wall. Olivia winced, but kept her smile. "That the best you got."
"Bitch" He screamed. Then in a second, he punched her. Olivia's face violently flew to the side as she felt the warm trickle of blood slipped down her chin. Her instincts took hold in that one moment. She kicked up violently with her knee, making sweet contact. James fell to the floor, holding his boys as Olivia grabbed her gun and stuck it in his face.
"Get out." She sternly yelled. He didn't hesitate. James picked himself up off the ground and ran, Olivia slammed the open door.
The gun fell from her hands as she rested her forehead on the door. The cold metal was a relief, but not enough. She turned so her back contacted the door and began to slide down, tears rolling down her cheek, mixing with the warm crimson blood.
She wasn't getting any younger.
