Author: Shae-Lynn –
Genre: General
Archive: The SVU Fanfic Archive ). Please ask if you wish to archive elsewhere.
Disclaimer: The characters of Olivia Benson, Brian Cassidy, Jeff York, Nick Gantzner, Elliot Stabler, and Greg Elliot do not belong to me. I am using them only for my own entertainment.
Notes: Based loosely on Margaret Atwood's "The Loneliness of the Military Historian." The statistics used came from the websites for the Association for Children's Services and the New York City Alliance Against Sexual Assault.
Additonal Note: This chapter has been re-written
Summary: "Confess: it's my profession/that alarms you."
...I tell
what I hope will pass as truth.
A blunt thing, not lovely.
The truth is seldom welcome,
especially at dinner,
though I am good at what I do.
My trade is in courage and atrocities.
Huang leaned back in his chair and stared at Olivia.
"And what do you do to unwind?" he asked. Olivia was wary, especially since talking to shrinks had dragged both Elliot and Monique in front of the Morris Commission a few years ago.
"I listen to music," she shrugged.
"Have you been in any relationships lately?" She shook her head.
"No time."
"Is that really the issue?" Huang asked. God damn it. He had this uncanny way of analyzing her. "It's not really that simple, is it, Olivia?" She felt tears begin to form in her eyes.
God she had been so young and idealistic.
Olivia first met Nick Gantzner after a high-profile case dealing with the sexual assault of a local celebrity. While Cragen answered questions from the media, Olivia slipped out of the crowd of reporters, back to her car. Just when she thought she was alone on the street, she heard running footsteps behind her. She stopped and turned.
"Detective Benson!" A younger man with glasses wearing a beige trench coat was running after her. She didn't recognize him.
"Do I know you?" she called, puzzled. He caught up with her and had to bend over to catch his breath. It took him a minute. His breath made clouds in the cold air.
"Sorry, I really need to get into shape," he smiled. She smiled back, looking at his face, flushed with the cold. He had about a day's worth of stubble. She had to admit he was quite attractive.
"Can I help you?" Olivia asked him.
"Nick Gantzner. I'm from the Post. I'd just like to ask you a couple of questions." He pulled out a press pass. Olivia's smile faded. She turned and began to walk again.
"You'll have to address those to Captain Cragen."
"I wanted to get your impressions on the case," he argued, following.
"Sorry, I have to go." She smiled cynically. Reporters. Never turn your back on one.
"Detective Benson! Olivia! Just one question!" Nick called. His use of her first name caught her off-guard. She stopped and turned back to him. "Can I take you for coffee sometime?" She looked at him suspiciously.
"No questions? No probing?"
"It'll be completely off the record," he assured.
"Tomorrow at ten. Grounds for Coffee. Know where that is?" If they were going to do this, it was going to be on her terms.
"You bet. I'm looking forward to it." And he jogged back in the direction he came.
After the coffee he took her out whenever she had time, which wasn't often. He did tell her he loved her. She always brushed it off. They were both exceptionally busy. Nick took her for a beer a few times after work, to dinner another couple of nights. He rarely asked her about work and never asked her about specific cases. She began to read his crime reporting in the Post when she got the chance. He was a good writer.
Then there was the case of the subway rapist.
Nick had been so nice the day before the call came in, so understanding when she cancelled on him again, that she considered giving him a tip. Nothing too specific, just when and where. She stood outside the precinct doors and called him from her cell phone.
"Nick?"
"Olivia?"
"Hey. There's something you might be interested in going on."
"You mean the subway rapist? Heard he struck again this morning. I was just heading over there. Call you later, okay?" Before she had time to answer, he had hung up. She stood staring at the receiver for a minute before closing her phone and heading inside.
That evening, Nick came to the precinct, walked in to the squadroom like he owned the place.
"Missed you at Columbus Circle," he said.
"Missed you too."
But he just had to ask about the suspect. She remembered how he'd hung up on her that morning. That was Nick: work always mixed in with play. Damn. She looked at his face smiling at her, heard him flirting with her. She gave him another chance to do things her way.
"Chinese Wall," Olivia proposed.
"Moo shu?"
"Dim sum. Eight o'clock"
He was back to his charming self at dinner. No questions, no probing. At one point, he took her empty teacup.
"What are you doing?" Olivia asked.
"Reading your tea leaves," he stated nonchalantly.
"Oh, so now you're a psychic," she laughed.
"I see good fortune in your future. Money and fame."
"Sure," she smiled.
"And something else," he continued, trying to make his voice mysterious.
"What else?" she humoured him.
"A man. Very handsome. His name begins with N," Nick continued.
"Your name begins with N."
"It must be destiny," he told Olivia.
"I don't believe in destiny."
They went to Barology after the dim sum. It was a reporters' pub that Nick frequented, slightly more up-scale than the places cops tended to go. Sitting at the bar, Olivia felt slightly out of place.
"So, this subway rapist," Nick began. Olivia straightened. Couldn't he just forget about it for one night?
The music was crowding her mind. She heard Nick tell her he loved her again. There was still something about him that was gnawing at her, even after all this time. Something about Nick wasn't quite right.
"Really?" he paused. "So, your subway rapist, maybe he's just trying to spread his seed..." She cut him off.
"Okay, why is he my subway rapist?"
The gnawing feeling was growing, along with anger. She felt a headache coming on. She was having trouble getting her words out without stuttering. Trying to calm herself down, she missed his response. Something about a book. "I should write a book," she said, taking a drink of her beer.
"You should. You know these people," Nick stated, encouraging. Mentally, she flinched. Verbally, she denied it. "Yes you do. That's why people move away from you on the sofa, Olivia," Nick continued, "You get inside sex offenders."
Sonofabitch. She took another drink, finishing the bottle, trying to pull herself up. The gnawing was extreme by this point. She wanted to leave, but Nick intercepted her. She narrowed her gaze at him.
"I'm not moving away," he said. The look in his eyes was so full of sincerity that she felt herself forgiving him. She smiled seductively.
"I can see that. Can we forget about work right now?" she asked.
"Sure," Nick said. "Am I coming back to your place?" She took a minute to mull it over.
"Yeah."
He had seen her apartment only once before. She took off her coat and hung it on a chair, before gesturing to the couch.
"Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? I've got some wine" She went into the kitchen and uncorked some chardonnay.
"I think I've had enough, but I just want to be with you." She took two glasses and the bottle to the couch. "How was your day?" he asked. Olivia sighed.
"Same as every day. You?" But he was already leaning over to kiss her. She sank back into the couch and let him explore her mouth. The alcohol was creating pleasant warmth in her core. She was open. He was eager, but suddenly he drew back.
She didn't remember much about the kissing, but she remembered they were standing up when he said it, his arms around her waist from behind.
"Let's pretend that I'm the guy on the subway."
"Okay, stop it," she said, panic rising in her throat. There was suddenly fear, disgust, and a sense of betrayal. She had to get him out of there. She had to get him off her. She kept staring at his face, wondering how she could have missed it. "Wow. I'm going to go wash my face and my hands and my mouth and, um, there's the door. Make sure you're out when I get out of here. Gone." Anger coursed over her. She went into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. She ran the water hot, filled her hands with water and splashed her face. It wasn't enough. She felt wired. She ended up in a scalding shower, scrubbing herself over and over again with soap. Finally, she turned the water off. She wrapped herself in a towel and stumbled into bed.
And then he used her by reading her confidential files, by using information for his stories. She was lucky Cragen didn't put her ass in a sling. She wanted Nick's balls on a platter.
So she humiliated him at his office. She hoped he felt like shit. She hoped everyone in his office learned just what he was. She hoped that he would rot in hell.
A few days later, Nick was demoted to sports briefs. Olivia was at her desk drinking coffee when she found out. Cragen had emerged from his office into the squadroom, holding The Post. She felt a chill of apprehension. What has he written about now? Cragen passed the sports pages over to her desk without a word.
Olivia liked reading his name in tiny print above three short paragraphs dedicated to baseball statistics. She couldn't imagine him doing much harm in his new line of work.
"Hey. Let's pretend I'm the pitcher and you're the catcher."
Olivia tried to laugh at the thought. She couldn't.
Thanks for your constructive feedback. More to come hopefully quite soon. Please review constructively!