Title: Thunderstorms
Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize…
Warnings: EO if you squint!
Notes: Second SVU story! Hope you enjoy!!
Enjoy!
The Special Victim's Unit had just dealt with a horrible case: a rapist gone murderer. The perp would rape his victims before disemboweling them. He would then take the disemboweled things and spread them in his next victim's apartment, as a method of scaring them. But he'd only commit his crimes during thunderstorms.
When the next thunderstorm rolled around, Olivia found disemboweled body parts in her apartment, signaling her, the next victim.
Luckily, the sex unit caught the man just in time – a day before Olivia was to die.
Cragen offered her some police protection for a few days, but Olivia declined, stating, "I have a gun and I'm not afraid to use it, Capt." Cragen had just nodded solemnly but accepted her wishes.
So it was the day that Olivia was supposed to die.
And it was storming.
"Storms will continue on into the night," the news broadcaster declared from the TV, "and storm sometime tomorrow around noon."
Olivia sighed, clicking off the TV.
She was in her pajamas, curled up on the couch, gun on the table beside her.
As much as she tried to hide it, this case got to her, scared her. Especially finding all those dead body parts in her living room and bedroom yesterday.
Trying to deter her mind, she got up and made herself some coffee in the kitchen. There'd be no sleep tonight.
While the coffee was brewing, she took a shower – again – and went through some bills that she had neglected to send out a few days ago. Once the pot of coffee was complete, she poured herself a cup and started on a book, The Bomb Squad, because that part of the police had always intrigued her slightly.
It was a good three hours, six cups of coffee, and two hundred pages later when the knock came at the door.
Startled, she jumped up, book dropping onto the couch. Olivia calmed herself quickly and glanced at the clock as she took the safety off her gun.
Twelve midnight: the exact time that the murderer knocked on his victim's doors.
Olivia closed her eyes tightly, said a small prayer, and headed toward the door.
She glanced through the peep hole but no one was there. "Hello," she called, covering the fear in her voice.
"Liv," Elliot Stabler called back, "open up."
Breathing a sigh of relief, Olivia put the safety on her gun and opened the door.
She gave a half-hearted smile to her partner, "Hey."
"How you holding up," Elliot asked, letting himself in and locking the door behind him.
"Not bad."
"A gun isn't bad?"
Pause. "Okay, maybe I'm not okay."
"That's more like it," Elliot said with a smile.
"Want something to drink?"
Olivia made her way into the kitchen and pulled out a mug for Elliot's coffee. "Yeah," he said with a slight smile at her knowing his habits.
Olivia got him coffee and sat on the couch to watch a movie that he had turned on. He smiled at her when she handed him a cup.
An hour later, both had fallen asleep: her in his lap and him sitting on the couch.
Safely.