A/N: Thanks for the reviews. As most of you were confused, I apologize. In this chapter I hope to explain the situation further & clear up the confusion! Please keep reading!

P.S.: Sorry about the wait. I decided not to put it off any longer and continue this one.


Chapter 2

Olivia decided to take a risk. She silently rolled to the end of the couch to where the lamp sat. Without any light, it would literally be a shot in the dark.

She felt around for the legs of the end table, and then tied the dog's leash around it. Bearing in mind from which direction the voice came, she kept herself hidden by the cumbersome piece of furniture and held her gun steady. She knew the lamp to be cantankerous as it never turned on in fewer than two seconds after being told, so she was ready to aim and fire quickly if need be.

As the light chased away the darkness, Olivia found a target. Unfortunately, she found three of them. Two were sitting at her dining table; one on a seat, the other on the actual table itself. The third man stood closer to the window.

The man in the chair spoke again. "Nice maneuvering. Too bad you didn't try out for the bureau. We would have loved to have you."

Liv stared incredulously. "Bureau?"

She watched all three of them flip open FBI badges. After noticing none had weapons out and having a long, drawn out discussion with herself, she finally lowered the gun. The beating of her heart still echoed in her ears.

"What the hell--are you guys trying to kill me?" she managed as she rested her hands on her knees, trying to control her racing heart beat and haggard breathing.

The two other men snickered. The lead agent rose from the chair and walked towards her to shake her hand. "Agent Johnson, Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"Detective Benson, but you already know that." She shook his hand, then gestured with her pistol to his colleague. "Tell him to get his ass the hell off my table. I eat there."

Johnson did so, and the other agent jumped neatly down. Feeling secure for the moment, Olivia dropped her firearm on the couch.

Johnson smiled. "Right. And -- as to your previous question: yes and no."

Olivia widened her eyes, briefly flicking them down at her gun on the sofa pillow. Why did I do that! Damn! Still--It'd only take a half-second. If the other two aren't ready, I could catch them all by surprise.

Agent Johnson noticed her incertitude. "Don't worry. You won't need that. I promise."

"Then what the hell are you talking about -- yes and no?" Olivia wasn't in the mood to play games or answer riddles.

"Perhaps I should introduce myself more formally. Agent Darrell Johnson, FBI, Witness Protection."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Liv sat at the table, directly across from Johnson. The other two, introduced as James and Denault, were staying out of the way. Agent James, the younger and more inexperienced of the two, had moved from the table to the sofa, where he sat scratching the dog's ears. Denault was still on guard by the window, making sure everything was under control outside.

Olivia rubbed her face with her hands. " I don't need protection! How many times do I have to say that?"

She knew the answer already. Until I start to believe it.

"Don't need protection? Tell me, Detective: how many times with in the last, oh, eight days has an attempt been made on your life?"

Olivia sighed. More than I care to admit.

The past couple of weeks had really worn on Olivia. A routine investigation into a child pornography site had sent red flags up with the FBI's Organized Crime Taskforce. Refusing to back off, she and the rest of the team pressed on against the wishes of the Taskforce. After the futile, and near feudal, turf war, the feds agreed to allow them to continue with their initial investigation so long as they stayed away from any high profile targets and submitted to FBI supervision. As the pornography faction lead higher and higher up the food chain, the Taskforce got nervous and pulled rank, killing the SVU investigation. But they had acted too late. The crime boss Albert Mendoza had been reached.

Johnson failed to get her attention. "Detective!"

She and Elliot had managed to shake their FBI tail on that final day. Acting on a tip they'd received from a man already in custody, they traveled across town to the apartment of one of Mendoza's alleged mistresses -- Mitsy Stevens.

Olivia jerked back to the present when Agent Johnson grabbed her arm. "What?"

"Have you even been listening to me?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Sorry."

He sighed, "Right. As I was saying -- Mendoza's got it out for you. He's not going to stop until he succeeds."

"Or until he's in prison. The feds are only inches away from indicting the bastard," Olivia reminded him.

"Iron bars aren't going to prevent him from doing anything! How many crime lords in the world still run their enterprise from the joint? Even if -- and I say if -- he gets killed, someone else will take his place and try to avenge him. As long as he still has men on the outside, you're not safe. Got it?"

Flames flickered in Liv's eyes, but slowly they extinguished themselves and she nodded. "Why me?" she whispered quietly to herself.

"What?" Johnson asked, figuring she had asked him a question.

"Oh, nothing," Olivia mumbled back. "I just was wondering why he's after me so much -- and not anyone else. I know this sounds horrible, and that it's better this way: but why isn't he trying to kill Elliot, too? He was with me every step of the way, but it seems I'm the only target."

Johnson mournfully nodded his head. "I know what you mean, but that's how Mendoza is. He respects male authority figures -- he believes Detective Stabler was only doing his job. But with women -- whole different ballgame. He blames you for ruining one of his more profitable rackets, driving away customers, putting employees in jail, and chasing off the people he feels closest to. The first items were just business, and he could deal with it -- but then you hit him personally."

"I didn't --" Liv started, but stopped just as soon. At the time she didn't believe she had done anything on a personal level, but looking back, she realized she may have been a little overzealous.

"You did. I'm not blaming you for anything. I would have done the same. But Mendoza, he sees it differently. By confronting Miss Stevens the way you did -- providing her with the disgusting details of his business deals -- he saw it as a threat. Especially when she ran and encouraged the rest of his mistresses to do the same. Not to mention the fact that after you spoke with her, his wife took his children and 'disappeared.'"

Olivia sighed, absentmindedly scratching at an imperfection in the table.

Agent Johnson looked at her with a sympathetic eye. "I know it seems drastic, but sometimes the only way to live without fear is to destroy it completely. And, no offense, but you're running scared."

Olivia slammed her fist on the table. "I AM NOT!"

The outburst drew attention from both of the other agents in the room. Denault glanced away from the window for a second, but then returned to his task. James stopped petting the dog, and stood up. He was about to step over to the table when Johnson waved him away. The dog, however, strode over and collapsed at her feet.

Johnson didn't usually get angry, but her stubbornness was a great vexation. "If you're not, then what would you call that little incident downstairs?"

Olivia's heart did a little jump. "That was, um, nothing," she lied.

"Nothing, eh? From what Jennings reported down there, you were rivaling James Bond."

Liv shrugged. "I was just being cautious."

Agent Johnson shook his head. "Being cautious is one thing, but that? That's obsessively extreme. You're new to the neighborhood. For all you knew it could have been some old lady coming to visit a friend."

"Old ladies don't generally stay out that late after dark." Olivia protested.

"Who are you to say so? Fine, then it could have been some out-of-towner staying with a relative. You had no reason to suspect anything else. And yet you did." He pushed his chair backwards as he stood up. "I know you hate to admit it, Detective -- but you're succumbing to your fear."

Olivia's hand shot to her face as a tear fell. She looked away embarrassed. "How long do I have to decide?"

The man sighed. "Sooner is better. Maybe three days, maybe one. When an opportunity presents itself, we need to be ready if you do choose to do it. Don't worry about contacting us. We'll be in touch."