John Lowell hummed as he checked his phone for the fifth time in as many minutes. His soft, sandy hair fell carelessly over his forehead, hiding a pair of stunningly dark grey eyes, which roved restlessly from his phone, to the clock on the dashboard of the car. It was almost nine thirty. Darkness had fallen four hours ago, and the stars gazed coldly down at him. He sighed, his breath huffing out in a plume of grey. It was cold. But not so cold as to be uncomfortable. Not for him. He was the last of a dying tradition and as such, mere cold would not deter him from his prey. With one last check of his phone, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his coat and hunkered down, staring out of his car at the window on the penthouse level of the apartment building. The light inside had just gone out.


The first time Olivia felt the urge to transform without the influence of the moon was when she was driving on the freeway, pushing 70, making her way north for a couple of enforced personal days. Her jaw and teeth had ached as her heart pounded in her head, the adrenaline pumping through her veins like a second heartbeat. The feeling had been fleeting, but incredibly intense, and she'd had to pull over and just breathe for almost ten minutes before the sickening urge had fully passed.

"Liv?"

Olivia jerked out of her thoughts and almost upset her now cold coffee. She blinked before shooting the man across the desk a filthy look. Elliot, far from being chastised, looked amused.

"You were away in the clouds there, partner. You alright?"

"Yeah." Olivia sighed, and rubbed her face. It was Monday morning, and she was already knee deep in paperwork – unfortunately, she'd been preoccupied with transforming, and so she had let the important reports slide. Now, she was paying for it. Hand cramped with writing since six that morning, she was already looking forward to lunch.

"You sure? You look like crap."

She scowled at Elliot, her brow furrowing. "Thanks for the compliment. Jeez, there's a such a thing called a white lie, y'know."

"White lies are not always good."

Both detectives looked up just as Alex approached the desk. Olivia experienced a strange lurching sensation somewhere deep in her gut – it was almost as though her stomach was trying to decide whether it should leap or sink. She had expected this visit, and had been both looking forward to and dreading it.

"Mornin' Alex," Elliot grinned, turning in his chair to watch the ADA as she came to a halt. Her clear blue eyes focused on Olivia for a moment before she addressed Elliot.

"Good morning. I've come to collect the Collins file for court on Wednesday."

Olivia did her best to look as though she was recovering from flu as Elliot proudly handed over his report, although she figured she looked nothing more than sheepish as Alex turned that brilliant gaze onto her. The ADA moved closer, effectively blocking Elliot out of the conversation by turning her back ever so slightly to him.

"And how are you? Are you feeling better now?"

Olivia could see Elliot's inquisitive face as he peered around Alex's back, his eyebrow high in question. She ignored him and glanced up at the ADA before looking back down at her current report.

"Yeah. I'm fine." She croaked out around her suddenly dry throat. Her heart leapt up her throat as she felt a cool hand on her forehead. Alex had leaned forward and was checking her temperature. As soon as the hand had come, it had gone and Alex was pulling away, her high cheekbones barely hiding a slight flush.

"Well, you certainly feel fine. Although you are a little hot."

Elliot's eyes bugged out his head and Olivia restrained a groan as she watched him wrestling with a smirk.

"Right. Yeah, I, um, feel much better now," the Detective said, leaning as far away from the ADA as possible. "It was like a flash flood. There and gone in an instant." She braved a nervous laugh. "A flash flu."

Elliot guffawed as Olivia imagined digging a grave deep enough to hide her self and her lame joke. To her relief, Alex laughed too, her mouth spreading into a rare grin, flashing straight white, perfect teeth.

"Very funny, Detective."

And with that, the nervous tension that had been holding Olivia's heart in a vicious tattoo against her ribs broke and she grinned back, relaxing into her chair.

"Yes, well, I am known to be very funny when I want to be."

"Right," Elliot butted in, rolling his eyes. "Alex, please, don't encourage her. Her favourite joke is 'What happens when Satan loses his hair'."

Alex looked highly amused as she leaned against the desk, her eyes on Olivia. "Well, what happens when Satan loses his hair?"

"There'll be hell toupee." Said five different voices. Fin, Munch and Cragan had just stepped out of the office. All three were grinning as Elliot broke into peals of laughter while Olivia buried her face in her hands, blushing hard before letting out a snort of laughter.

Alex laughed with the others, her eyes fixated on Olivia. The woman didn't look particularly sick, nor did she look as though she had shaken off flu. Then again, during the day on Friday, she had looked a little peaky and ill. However, the ADA had the distinct feeling she was being hoodwinked, but she didn't know as of yet how to broach the subject. Slowly, she began working on a plan that had been half formed in her mind since first meeting the Detective.

As the laughter died down she slid off the desk, smiling at the others before excusing herself, walking efficiently out of the office. She missed Olivia staring wistfully after her.

"Alright, alright, that's enough." Captain Cragan said as Munch and Fin settled behind their desks. "Get back to work." There was a collective groan before four heads bent back over their paperwork, pens scratching.

An hour later, Olivia's phone rang. With a sigh of relief as she placed her pen carefully on the desk, she picked up.

"Detective Olivia Benson, Special Victims Unit."

"Olivia."

It was Alex's voice – sharp, controlled and efficient. Olivia felt her brow furrow slightly as she glanced around the office, feeling suddenly cautious. After the blatant teasing this morning and the sensation of Alex's hand on her forehead, Olivia was ever so slightly skittish.

"Alex, what do you need?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to go for dinner this evening?"

Olivia sat there, blinking, her mouth open in surprise. Her mind, meanwhile, was racing while her heart tripped over itself as she tried to make sense of what Alex had just said. She and the ADA had been out for dinners before – casual dinners. They'd always happened to bump into each other at work and gone to the little Italian place down the road. There'd never had an official phone call before.

"Olivia?" Alex's voice brought Olivia crashing back into the present.

"Sure," she blurted promptly. "Yeah, sounds good." Olivia tried to recover smoothly, clearing her throat slightly. "I mean, do you want me to pick you up from work or should we meet there? Do you have a place for us to eat or should we go to Frankie's down the block from you?"

Alex laughed silkily down the phone and Olivia felt the sharp knife of arousal deep in her gut. "I have a reservation already, Olivia. I'll give you the address and we can meet there at seven. Does that sound good?"

"Sure," she said again, and she cursed the fact that her vocabulary had dissolved to all but that one word.

"Excellent." Alex said before she recited the address to the flustered Detective, who scrambled for her pen before copying it down.