Disclaimer: No one and nothing is mine. It all belongs to Dick Wolf.

Her fierce loyalty to her friends and colleagues

I'm in the squad room, waiting for Olivia to come out and tell me what's up. I know I've probably gotten her into pretty deep trouble – on Friday, she and Elliot were getting ready to search the home of a suspected child molester. We didn't have enough evidence to compel a warrant, but it was time-sensitive – he might have had a kid in there with him. I told Olivia I'd get her a warrant, to go in and search the place and I'd have the warrant by the time she got there. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a judge to sign off on it and told her to go ahead anyway. So she did. And when her boss asked her about it, she didn't even mention me, even though it was mostly my fault. She just said it was her mistake and now she's taking the fall.

"How did it go?" I ask her as she emerges from Captain Cragen's office.

"Three-week suspension, effective immediately," she says grimly.

"Well, all the more time for us to spend together," I tell Olivia, trying to cheer her up. "Isn't that good?"

"Not without pay." She grabs her coat and starts to go, but I call after her.

"Liv, you know you didn't have to do that for me."

She gives me a small smile over her shoulder. "I know. But I wanted to."

The way she knows instinctively when physical contact will comfort and when it will cause further pain

We get back from the hospital after visiting Sam Cavanaugh. I'm silent the whole ride back to Olivia's apartment, thinking about this boy, and what Roy Barnett has done to him. The defense attorney and the judge say he did it to himself, but I know better. His abuser drove him to what he did, so his abuser is the one we should blame.

On the way home, I curl up against the window of the taxi, hoping that Olivia will recognize my need for silence right now. I need to be alone with my thoughts and I need to sort some things out for myself. And somehow, she knows that a hand on mine or soft fingers stroking my hair won't help me now. So she doesn't.

But by the time we've arrived, all I want is to be close to her, to savor what I have that Sam Cavanaugh never will. I throw on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, climb into bed, and wait.

Sure enough, I feel a pair of strong, warm arms wrapped around me, pulling me close, making me feel safe. Reminding me how lucky I am.

The way she'll do whatever it takes to put away a bad guy and protect the innocent

"What the hell were you thinking, Olivia?" asks Captain Cragen, shaking his head.

"I was thinking that if it keeps this bastard off the street for another week, it's worth it," she says evenly.

"You can't smash a perp's head against a brick wall and give him a concussion, no matter how much of a monster he is!"

"Well, it kind of wasn't like that. He was running, I grabbed him, the impact pushed him forward, he hit the wall."

He stares at her. "Do you honestly think that will fly? Kressler's already screaming police brutality and I'm inclined to agree with him."

"Captain," she says hotly, a fire igniting in her bottomless dark eyes. "The man raped his girlfriend's four-year-old. If a concussion keeps him off the streets for a week, it's a week in which he won't be raping any more little girls."

The captain turns to me with a sigh. "Can we find a way to smooth this over, Alex?"

I nod. "I'll take care of it."

The gentle, empathetic way she talks to victims and children

The little boy is curled up in a corner, his knees clutched to his chest, rocking back and forth. I hang back, letting Olivia take care of this, because I know I can never do children justice in the way that she can.

She sits down beside the child. "Are we hiding?"

Momentarily distracted from his rhythm, he looks up at Olivia and shakes his head.

"What's your name, sweetie?" she asks him.

"Dustin," he whispers.

She smiles at him. "Dustin. That's a nice name. It means 'warrior.' I'll bet you're brave like a warrior, aren't you Dustin?"

He nods, wide-eyed.

"So Dustin, do you think you can be a brave warrior and tell me what happened to your mommy?"

And he does.

I watch the two of them in awe. Olivia Benson has done it again.

The way she still believes in the goodness of human nature, even with the cards she's been dealt

She goes to her mother's grave, every Sunday at 8:00, without fail. At first, she didn't tell me where she was going, but I would wake up early some Sundays and find her gone. At first, I panicked, but she was always back by 9:00. I asked her where she went but she refused to answer.

So one day, I decided to follow her. I hailed a cab and did something I'd wanted to do since I was eleven, told the driver to, "Follow that car!"

And we ended up at the cemetery. I paid the driver and climbed gingerly out of the taxi, scanning the graveyard for Olivia. Sure enough, there she was, kneeling beside a grave and placing a lone orchid on the headstone. Her lips were moving and she was murmuring something that I couldn't hear.

I advanced toward her, slowly, so as not to be too conspicuous. "Liv?"

She jumped and whirled around. "What are you doing here?"

I shrugged. "I woke up and you were gone. I was worried."

Now that I was close enough to read the gravestone, I saw that it said, Serena Benson. 1945-2000. Beloved mother. Go peacefully into the arms of the angels.

My first thought was, How poetic. My second thought was, Olivia told me how abusive her mother got when she was drunk. How can she love her so much even now?

Olivia caught me looking and read my thoughts with just a glance, as only she can. "My mother wasn't a bad person, Alex. She was a good person who had a hard life and made some bad decisions. But we had some good times. Those are the ones I'll remember."

Her complete and utter selflessness that continues to surprise me every day

Her cell phone starts to vibrate at two in the morning. Since it's right beside me, the sudden movement startles me awake. "Liv," I murmur, too tired to put together a coherent sentence.

But she's already reaching over me, grabbing her phone. "You can go back to sleep, sweetie," she whispers, planting a kiss on my forehead, but I'm already up.

"Who is it?"

She waves her hand, gesturing me to be quiet, and answers her phone with a crisp, "Benson . . . oh, hi Ashley . . . no, no, it's okay, it's okay, you did the right thing . . . I know . . ."

It's hard to piece together the conversation from one side, but I know that Ashley DeSantos is our most recent rape victim. She's only twenty-two and she was raped a few days ago by her so-called boyfriend. She's been pretty torn up about it, so Olivia gave Ashley her phone number, telling her to call her whenever if ever she needs to. It's just one of the things Olivia does.

She hangs up the phone and jumps out of bed. "What is it?" I ask her, staring at Olivia in wonder, still not entirely awake.

"Her boyfriend was calling her, harassing her. She's terrified. I'm going over there."

I would offer to come with her, but I know she'll refuse. I can never do the victims like she can and my presence would only make them uncomfortable.

"I love you," I whisper as she throws a sweatshirt on over her tank top.

She smiles down at me. "I love you, too."

Her lopsided smile that makes you want to smile along with her

"Do you know what color your eyes are, Liv?" I ask her one day.

She rolls her eyes. "Please don't say chocolate."

I shake my head with a smirk. "Nope."

"What color?"

"Beer-colored."

Her face breaks into a smile, those beer-colored eyes lighting up and crinkling at the corners. Her smile is the most beautiful in the world, and I would do anything to keep it there.

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