A/N – Okay, so – firstly thank you so much for everyone who is reading and reviewing, the reviews spur me on to write faster and I also appreciate hearing what people think about the direction this story is going in, since I feel like I'm winging it which is something I *never* do! There's something about these two that intrigues me, I feel like Rollins would allow Benson to connect with her younger self, how she used to be. The story's taking a sort of darker turn, going to be a bit angsty I think, I hope you'll all stick with me for the ride?

Also, I lost half of this chapter in a silly editing error. I'm not totally convinced I'm as happy with the re-write.

Reviews are *always* appreciated!


She didn't sleep at all that night.

The apartment seemed colder, emptier, like there weren't several thousand people milling about on the streets beyond its walls. Her thoughts echoed inside her mind, rolling over and over, back and forth as she replayed the events leading up to their kiss, wondering how she'd not seen it coming and cursing herself for not having paid better attention.

Because lets face it, when Olivia Benson kisses you, you'd probably want to remember.

She rolled over and glanced at the clock, 3:45am, she ran a finger, hesitantly, across chapped lips, dry from the weather, desperately trying to relive the memory once again.

At 4am she rose, threw on a pair of sweats and an NYPD hoodie and made her way to the kitchen, placing a dollar bill from her wallet into the jar almost out of habit, since gambling was really the furthest thing from her mind – a new addiction had formed.

This addiction was far more severe, its implications dangerous and heady, a gorgeous brunette with the softest lips, chestnut brown silken strands and a beguiling body of luscious curves.

Rollins grabbed the flour and a couple of eggs from the basket and began to melt chocolate on top of the stove, wondering how it was her fridge stood empty aside from baking ingredients in abundance. She tried to analyse her thoughts but this grew wearisome, thinking over every millisecond leading up to – and after – that kiss. The brownie mix went into the oven – done 30 minutes later, a tray of chocolate glossy goodness staring back at her. She let it cool before placing the decadent squares into the tin, ready for work in the morning.

She would do as she had always done, she'd pretend it never happened and move on.

Of course, the similarities between them didn't end with their interest in each other, so it shouldn't have really been a shock to her that Benson had the exact same idea …


"Would someone care to explain to me when 36 hours suddenly meant 12?" Cragen asked, he'd not yet taken off his coat but was a mixture of frustrated and proud to see his two best detectives occupying their usual desks, heads buried deep in paperwork.

They both looked at him, but said nothing, and in the end he supposed it was probably best to keep out. 14 years of working with Olivia had definitely taught him one thing, he missed his wife every day but women weren't straightforward.

Rollins took Cragen's arrival as enough back-up to make her approach, picking up the cake tin from her desk she made her way across to Olivia, about to speak her first words to the brunette since the previous night. "Brownie?"

Olivia felt overwhelmed, knowing that Rollins had struggled overnight, she wondered if that had something to do with her, and their kiss?

"Don't read anything into it Liv." Rollins said curtly, "They're just brownies, you either want one or you don't …"

Her body language spoke volumes to the brunette, she wasn't forgiven, this wasn't over, but at the same time Rollins appeared to want to show how very much she was past it.

"Thanks," Liv replied, taking one from the tin. She missed the ease of their banter, the way she could read Amanda's mood by catching her eye. She hated the thought of being shut out. "Amanda … about …"

"I've got a ton of work to do." Rollins replied hurriedly, returning to sit at her desk.

Olivia sighed; clearly her ability to fuck things up hadn't lessened over the years.


The rest of the weekend brought no more opportunity to talk, then in the early hours of Monday morning the case broke and both women were answering their cells to Cragen reluctantly calling them back into work.

They had him.

Amanda felt a sense of relief as she watched him pace the interrogation room like a caged animal, knowing the bitter taste of having to release him earlier in the week was worth it if this time he went away for good. Six women were dead, one seriously injured at Bellevue; his victim's body wore the signs of how much she'd had to fight him for her life. It just wasn't fair. Her stomach turned over at the thought of it and she put her hand out against the glass to steady herself.

"We got him …" Liv said softly from behind.

Amanda turned, cross with herself at being caught exposed and vulnerable again in Olivia's presence. "How's your vic?" She asked, diverting the conversation away.

"Alive," Olivia replied, "barely … DNA's a match …" She added, ruefully. "He's not gonna walk away from this one."

Rollins nodded, preparing to enter the interview room, this one was personal, this one was hers.


"To Rollins!" Amaro lifted his glass, the second pitcher of beer on their table and the sleep-deprived detectives were all feeling a little merry.

The rest of them chinked their glasses together. "To Rollins."

The blonde smiled, but avoided the gaze of the brunette, her own glass filled with wine instead of beer – another reminder of how she was anything but 'one of the boys'. She'd obtained a full confession for the last attack and the six before it, and she should have been proud – instead she felt empty, regretting that they hadn't collared him sooner.

"Bastard got what was coming to him, in the end." Fin noted, sensing that something about this last case had gotten under his old partner's skin.

They all nodded in silent agreement.

Fin left shortly after, taking a drunk Munch with him, leaving Amaro alone with the two women and the palpable atmosphere between them.

"How's Zara doing?" Olivia asked, figuring that Nick's daughter was a fairly safe topic of conversation.

"She's okay." Nick replied, he swirled the glass of beer in front of him wistfully. "She loves her new school and Maria's job keeps better hours so it means they've got more time to spend together."

"That's good." Olivia mused.

"Yeah …" Nick's voice seemed sad. "A kid needs their mother."

"Hey …" Amanda was quick to defend him against himself. "I saw how you were with her," She said softly. "You're a great dad."

"Thanks. Another round?" Nick offered, keen to change the subject. He slid out of the booth and made his way over to the bar, leaving the two women alone.

The temperature suddenly dropped a few degrees.

"Amanda …" Liv's voice was hesitant, testing the waters. "About the other night …"

"Don't." Amanda's tone was warning, and forceful.

"It's just …"

"I don't wanna talk about it Liv," The blonde bit back, "Respect that."

Amaro returned with another pitcher of beer and a glass of wine for Liv. "What you guys talking about?" He asked, somewhat stupidly.

"We were just talking about how the job tends to get in the way of any kind of life outside of work …" Rollins said demurely.

Olivia didn't miss the gentle jibe at her, veiled within.

"You don't need to tell me that." Amaro agreed, still smarting from his separation.

"Which is why it's so important that we look out for each other," Liv said softly, swirling the stem of the wine glass in her hands.

Amanda glanced up, a warning glare on her face.

"You're right." Nick agreed, "I mean … if we don't have each other …"

Alcohol soothed so many ills, making him conveniently forget that just weeks before he'd accused them all of turning their backs on him, Liv especially. Amanda's pain was not so soothed, still raw, she chose that moment to remind him.

"That's convenient." She said stiffly. "How you've simply forgotten how come it is you two are no longer partnered together?" She gazed from Olivia to Nick and back again, settling her eyes on Olivia's discomfort. "I guess Liv has this way of getting her partners to 'forget' each time she screws them over …"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Olivia hissed, suggesting the bar was neither the time nor the place.

Rollins didn't really care; alcohol had finally lowered 'her' inhibitions sufficiently that she felt like talking now, where she hadn't before.

Amaro looked across at them both, wondering silently what he'd stepped into. He also wondered if they'd notice if he just quietly slipped out …

"We've all got demons Liv," Rollins said warningly. "You of all people should know that."

"I do …" Liv thought over her next words carefully. "I do and that's why I'm sorry if I made you feel like I tricked you, I never meant to hurt you Amanda, I swear."

Rollins suddenly noticed the absence of Amaro beside her. "When did he leave?" She asked.

Olivia shrugged, she didn't blame the blonde for being pissed at her, she'd encouraged her to let her guard down and then when she did, instead of sticking around to deal with the emotional stuff – she'd bailed. She leant forwards, her fingertips reaching out to touch against Amanda's above the tabletop. "Can we go someplace else?" She asked, silently urging the blonde to trust her.

Amanda felt herself giving in, drowning in that soft willowy voice. How many others? She thought, how many others have fallen for you in this way?

"Where do you want to go?" Amanda asked, her voice still frosty.

"Anywhere," Liv replied, softness creeping in, she held Amanda's gaze, willing the blonde to relent. "Anywhere that's not here."

"Your place or mine?" Rollins asked, withdrawing her hand and finishing the last of her beer. She'd allow Olivia another chance, but she'd do it on her own terms.

Olivia thought about it, realising there was only one place she wanted to go - she needed to see to understand, figure out what it was that kept Amanda Rollins so intriguing and out of reach.

She had to know what it was that made her drawn like a moth to a flame.

"Yours." She replied softly.


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