(Disclaimer: Not mine. It all belongs to the good folks at NBC.)
(Note: Before someone asks me - I am not trying to spam ff net It might seem like I am - but I just have a backlog of fics that were never posted to this account. I'm not entirely sure where this one came from - but... eh.)
"'Rena! Serena, over here!"
I can hear the sound - it's poor and distorted, coming from her living room, as I step down the hall. Olivia's put on an old home movie of some sort.
The picture is black and white, not the best quality. The camera turns toward a young woman, her hair long and half-covering her face. She's apparently absorbed in a book."Hey... 'Rena... Could you put the book down for a second? Or do you English majors know how to do that?" The voice presumably belonging to the female holding the camera giggles, as her target puts down her book and scowls. Her words weren't recorded, but she shakes her head, from where she's sitting on the front stairs of a building.
I never met Serena Benson - I saw her once, sitting at her daughter's desk, waiting for Olivia to clock out - but I never met her. Something in me knows that the young woman being filmed - presumably a student - is her. And even though Olivia claims she looks more like the unknown father, the similarities are there.
"Livvy - say hi to the camera for me, huh?" The woman holding the camera appears to drop a few feet in height, her lens focused on a child's face. She's younger, innocent, without as many years of work on her face - but that's a younger Olivia. The little girl waves, shyly, laughing and bounces off, over to where her mother sits on the stairs. And then the film ends, abruptly.
"Liv?" I ask, quietly. "Where was that?"
"Out front of the apartment I grew up in, over in Brooklyn." The adult Olivia turns to face me. "Mom wouldn't live on campus after she was attacked - the one filming was one of her roommates."
"'70's college kids - I'm sure you had an interesting childhood," I comment, dryly.
"Not really. I didn't realize Mom was drinking and what it meant until I was about 9 - I'm about four there. Cassie - the one who was filming - was a Catholic. Devout. Clean as a whistle. They had another roommate - Sarah - she was a nursing student. I think the worst thing she ever did was smoke." Olivia shakes her head and gets up, fiddling around with something, until another film begins.
This one's a little better quality, with washed-out colour. "Gonna be on Broadway someday, baby?" The same voice from before asks, as the camera swings around to focus on a young Olivia again - this time she's no more than 10, wearing high heels that obviously don't belong to her, after raiding someone's makeup box and closet. "The camera loves you, Livvy. Look at that. You sure you're not going to Hollywood instead? Wave for me?"
The little girl's giggle is perfectly audible - and she does give the requested wave.
"Cassie liked filming things," grown-up Olivia remarks. "I think she saved for two or three years to buy that camera. I used to feel like I couldn't get away from her and it - now I'm glad I have these."
"Where'd you find these, Liv?"
"In a box in Mom's closet, after she died. I haven't pulled them out until now." She gets up and fiddles with a few more things - I can't clearly see what she's doing in the dark - and turns on her VCR, slipping a tape in.
The machine groans and whirrs to life, as she presses play. The video begins, with a much older Olivia - in the later part of her teens, her hair longer and darker than I've ever seen it.
"Cut it off after my first week at the Academy," she explains, at my confused look. "It was easier to deal with, short. You have no idea how hard it is to shove long hair under a uniform hat."
"So you're going all the way upstate to college - what? Schools in the city not good enough for you or something?" The narrator is the same woman as before, although she sounds a bit older.
The college-bound Olivia reaches for a pillow beside her on the couch she's sitting on and throws it at the person filming. "No."
"Why, then?"
"I want to get out of the city, Cassie. See something else."
"And you'll see absolutely nothing up there around Albany - trust me."
The young woman groans, rolling her eyes. "You can't make me not go. I'm going."
"I bet your mother can, though. 'Rena - your daughter's being stubborn."
An older Serena appears on the screen - alcohol's already put age on her face that shouldn't be there. "And that's different from anything else she's ever done how?"
The young Olivia sitting on the sofa sighs, looking disgusted and angry. "Mom..."
The faceless Cassie, still holding the camera, jumps in. "All right you two, stop it. C'mon now..." And the tape ends there.
"Your mother didn't want you to go to college?" I question, confused.
Adult Olivia sighs. "Oh - she wanted me to go. Just not where I was going. She was a tenured professor, then. It wouldn't look good for her daughter to go to some small, obscure school upstate for 'nothing important'... she wanted me to go to law school. Become a doctor. Get an English degree and become a teacher. Do something 'important.' And was she pissed when I came back and wrote the Academy test."
"She didn't think being a cop was important?"
"Not when I was walking a beat, no. She hated it. Once I became a detective, it was okay... sort of. But she never wanted me in SVU."
"Hey - if I had a kid, I wouldn't want them in there, either," I point out, earning a nod.
"Yeah - you're right." She reaches for the remote and turns off the VCR. "I'm sure old home movies aren't that fascinating."
"Actually, they are. You were a cute kid."
Olivia shakes her head, sighing. "Only you would think that."
