Detectives Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson were back at their desk at the 1-6. Both desks had in common the dark grey computer flat screen as well as keyboard and mouse. And both had a pile of files at the right side of them. While Benson's desk was also occupied with a black telephone, Stabler's desk held a beige one. Also on both desks were pictures from the families of the Detectives. Stabler was now typing up reports while his partner was organising the results of the canvas several patrol officers had done earlier.
"Do you think it's a fireman?" Stabler asked looking up from the screen.
"Why not?" Benson shrugged.
"I don't know, just can't see it…"
Olivia looked directly at her partner now and he could see that he had hit a nerve.
"Why? Just because they're heroes? You think there isn't one bad apple in the FDNY?" she returned and couldn't help but to raise her voice.
"But we don't even know yet if it IS a fireman!" Stabler contradicted, his voice now louder than before as well.
Colleagues started to look over to them and Captain Donald Cragen, a slightly small man with a balding hairline, came out of his office to see what the commotion was all about.
"We got a problem here?" Cragen asked in a tone a father would speak to his children.
It proved useful, as Benson and Stabler both looked at their superior apologetically.
"No, Sir," Olivia added, looking down to her desk.
"Then I suggest you send a memo out to all precincts to notify us ASAP should there be another case with the same MO. Also check if there already had been cases similar to ours."
"Yes Sir," Stabler said, but forgot to mention that they intended to start looking for the same modus operandi as soon as the reports were done. The grown-up detective felt like a schoolboy that had just been chastised by his principal for spying in the girl's changing room.
When Cragen returned to his office – which was opposite Benson's desk – Stabler and Benson went back to work in silence. They both needed to cool off first.
It was Lieutenant Johnson's favourite time of day – lunch time. Or more precisely food preparing time in the firehouse. Although he mostly stayed in his office to do paperwork, he loved the sounds and smells that came into his little eremite cave; also known as his office.
If he remembered correctly, it was either DK's or Walsh's turn to cook today, so the meal would be either lasagne or "pie" – outside New York City commonly known as pizza.
But he didn't care who's turn it was. Johnson enjoyed the life in the kitchen area. To him, it meant everything was normal and fine.
After 9-11, they hadn't prepared meals for several weeks because of all the food donations from the community. But specially Johnson had missed it. The return to normality. And back then, when Doc had surprised everybody with everything they would need for a BBQ, they had found Tommy Doyle's body in the Pile.
Johnson forced his thoughts away from that dreadful time and returned to his paperwork again. Little did he know about the meal that was being prepared in the kitchen area. Because he had no idea that Walsh knew it was Johnson's anniversary…
A car stopped in front of the fire house with squeaking tyres and a woman jumped out.
"My baby!" she cried. "My baby!"
Bobby and Carlos were in the back of the bay, playing Basketball. Irritated by those screams, the hurried to the front and found the woman, crying from panic.
"My baby, please help her!" she sobbed.
Carlos grabbed her by her shoulders and moved down a little to be face-to-face with her.
"What's wrong with her?" the paramedic wanted to know while Bobby opened the door to the passengers side in front and checked the baby's vitals.
"I don't know, she just suddenly went silent and didn't move anymore…please help her…"
"What's her name?" Bobby asked from the car.
The woman turned around to face the paramedic.
"Hope…she's 14 months old," she told him.
"Was she sick?" Carlos wanted to know now, joining his colleague by the car, now that the woman had calmed down a little. Bobby was already holding the baby in his arms, moving towards the ambulance.
"Her face is hot, pulse is fast and weak, resp shallow," Caffey told Carlos, who ran over to the stairs leading up to the squad room and yelled up where he and Bobby would be going. Not waiting for a reply, he hurried over to the ambulance and hopped in on the driver's seat, while Bobby and the concerned mother climbed in back.
