In a fanfiction universe, trying to pass off a show as your own is considered especially heinous. On the internet, the dedicated writers who borrow characters and write fictional stories about them are members of a website known as fanfiction dot net. This is my story. *Chung chung*

She opened the door in the most demure way she could manage, the quiet entrance serving the purpose of fitting the role and not arousing the attention or suspicion of anyone else in the precinct. She flitted in, trying to make herself look girly and vulnerable, but also smart and driven. She was thankful she still had her uniform on, for it was a perfect costume to her clandestine undercover role according to the manuscript she'd just devoured on the desk.

"Oh, hello there, sir," she greeted with a smile, biting her tongue from flying off the handle at the possible suspect up close.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, his arms crossed, sounding angry at the imposition the young girl had obviously set forth.

"Juliette Odessa," she said, resorting to her undercover name during the pageant. "And you?" She asked, sticking her hand out, batting her lashes in that way she saw girls do in movies when they tried to get what they want. Hopefully she looked seductive and shy rather than stupid and seizure-prone.

"Gordon Reich," he introduced himself in a skeptical manner, taking her hand with reluctance. "Why are you here? Look a little young to be a cop," he said brashly.

"Oh," she said with a sophisticated giggle, "I'm no cop. I just came in here to talk."

"Why are you even at this station in the first place? Here to make a complaint against an innocent man?" He inquired bitterly. "You women are all the same. Can never trust you. You're filthy backstabbers, the whole lot of you."

"I'm not here to do that," she reassured.

"Then tell me, what are you here to do?"

"Just waiting on my father."

"Oh wonderful, you're a policeman's brat. You here to rat me out if I look at you funny? Come get daddy to protect you if I eye you wrong, princess?"

"I'm not like that."

"Right. As much as you want to say that, you can't convince me otherwise, all you people are the same. You think you have a badge or know someone who does and you run the world. Well let me tell you something, honey, that's not how it works, or at least not how it should."

"You're right. I absolutely agree with you. Which is why I'm telling you the truth when I say I'm just here to chat. In fact, I'm a bit insulted at your assumption. I'm not like the rest of them, really I'm not. I've seen too many fine people get put away, and I want no part of that. Too many people make false accusations, I've seen that firsthand, but we're not all the same," she tried to persuade the man to give her a chance. "So are you going to believe me or sit here and act like a coward who's scared of an adolescent girl because she's related to blue?" she asked. She knew acting like this was risky, but she really wanted to instill confidence that she wasn't bluffing with Reich.

"Oh, so you're a feisty one?" he asked, a smile passing his lips for the first time since she'd arrived. She was breaking him.

"Only when I want something. You in?"

"Not so fast. How do I know you're not just some ploy to relay back everything I say or do? How do I know everyone's not out there right now, watching this go down, waiting me to screw up? Because that's apparently what I do now," he spat bitterly.

Erin laughed, "Oh trust me, there's no one out there. And this room is sealed. The microphone's not on, and this is a pretty secluded little area. These walls are thick. No one's spying on this place," she said. And that part was true. From the outside, just casually passing by, you might not know anyone was in here. There were several interrogation rooms, and this one was in one of the more isolated parts of the precinct, in the mostly-deserted back zone.

"How do I know you aren't lying?"

Erin let out an exasperated breath. "You walked back here, didn't you? You know where we are in location to the rest of the rooms. Do you have a short memory, or are you just stupid?"

"Excuse me young lady, I'll have you know-"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she quickly apologized. "I didn't mean that. I just-I've got a lot on my mind and I really wanted someone to talk to. I thought you might want to hear it, you know, being non-objective and non-judgemental and lonely in here and all, but whatever. I can see you're not in the mood to chat," she said, making a move for the door, hoping he would stop her.

"Wait."

Jackpot.

She turned back around, flipping her hair as she did so. "You up for conversation?"

"I suppose so, but don't be getting lippy. Mouthy isn't attractive on pretty young things like you."

"Understood. So let's talk now."

"About what?" He squinted his eyes.

"I dunno," she shrugged. "Anything really. Truthfully, I just came in here because I needed a break from," she motioned towards the door, "all of that."

"And what would 'all of that' be?" He asked, now curious as to what the pretty little girl was saying.

Erin shrugged again. "I don't know. My family, my school, my life. There's always these expectations, these rules, you know? Which are important, and they're vital to succeeding, just…sometimes I feel like no one really cares how they affect me. They set all of these things out, but never really care what I want. I just feel like there's no personal payoff," she said, attemping a musing tone. "Oh, I'm so sorry; I must be boring you to death talking about all of these things. How selfish of me."

"No, no, don't stop. I find your situation…fascinating," he said, taking the bait and shifting positions so his head was in his hand, his elbow propped on the table.

"Oh, well, there's really nothing more to say or complain about," she said at a sudden loss.

"Well that's all right. Tell me about yourself. What kind of schooling are you receiving?"

"I go to St. Jonathon's," she stated, improvising, getting the name from thinking about Munch.

"Very impressive. What do you study?"

"Oboe. I'm a senior this year, and I'm planning on auditioning for Julliard in a couple of weeks. It's kind of expected at my house, all of my older siblings have gotten in, and both my parents went there. That's where they met. My father was a brilliant concert player, and my brother is following in his footsteps this year."

"They must be very proud of all your accomplishments."

Erin shrugged and glanced out the window, taking this moment of melodrama to make her move. She sighed as she sat on the table, inches away from Gordon whose eyes widened and sparkled at the closeness, his nostrils enticed by the scent of her youthful perfume. "I guess," she replied sadly, her head drooped in a sullen form.

"Aw, what's the matter, sweetheart?" Gordon asked, suddenly softening up as she crossed her legs and her skirt inched up slightly on her leg.

"Oh, nothing. I shouldn't be complaining. Not to brag, but I've achieved so much. Sometimes I just feel worthless. Like I work and work and keep getting all of these things, but no one's ever satisfied. I know it's silly…"

"Pumpkin, it's not," he said, shifting himself in his chair to edge closer to the teen.

"I just don't ever get to develop any meaningful relationships. I'm not close to anyone romantically or otherwise, so where's the payoff in that respect?"

Gordon knitted his eyebrows and pouted out his lip in mock-understanding, nodding in false concern. Erin had to give him props, he was quite convincing. If she'd have seen him anywhere else in another context, she might have thought his pity to be real. Of course in retrospect, with all the knowledge she had on him, his nice-guy persona was all kind of shot to hell in her mind, guilty or not.

Seeing the look in his eyes, one of anticipation for her to continue, she decided to play him even further, try to see what other buttons she could push.

She sighed. "Sometimes I wish I had some personal support. Someone who could be my friend, but also teach me about the real word. I feel like I'm trapped in this bubble, and at times I don't want to be."

"That's natural," he practically purred, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She felt the sudden contact and flinched slightly from the touch. She didn't expect it, and cursed herself for not seeing it coming and being unable to keep her discomfort under wraps.

Gordon gave a chuckle at the shudder. "Don't be scared."

"I-I'm sorry. I just-" she tried to use the slip to her advantage, playing the nerves card.

"Shh," he held out a finger, gently touching her lips. "I understand. Nowadays you're all trained to be so cautious, so careful, so programmed into expecting the worse in people. Seeing evil in everything. But don't worry; I want to help you fix that."

"How?" she asked in a whisper, Goosebumps covering the surface of her skin from eagerness and fear. This was a rush, knowing that she could potentially be helping solve a case and gaining insight and evidence to put a guilty man in jail. But with the rush and strife for justice came a price. Anxiety was now starting to bubble to the surface. What the hell was she doing? Why was she doing it? What was going to happen to her?

Her questions were interrupted by his answer, and she realized that if she turned back now all of her previous efforts and strides would be in vain. She was in far too deep to try and get out. There were only two ways she was leaving: she'd leave when she was done, or someone would have to drag her out. Because chickening out now would be more dangerous than playing along.

"I may be able to be of your service."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that maybe I can help you. Your…predicament is very familiar to me. I've worked and successfully cured many of the same things you're feeling right now. Abandonment. Loneliness. Stress. It's a lot to bear. And you're not nearly strong enough to do it on your own. Not even close. Which is where I come in. I can heal you."

"But how can you fix me when I'm so broken?" she asked, instantly wanting to face palm at the cheesy line. She was seriously about to screw this up. Although, looking at Reich, he seemed to like cheesy, for as soon as the words left her mouth, he grinned yet again.

"I can fix anyone. You can be as good as new, if you trust me. Are you ready to trust me?"

"Of course," Erin submitted, clenching her teeth and gulping, keeping the panic in her throat, sealing her lips so the alarm could not present itself out her mouth. She needed to come off desperate. She closed her eyes and realized that she was desperate in another way. She was desperate for the truth. She had to do this. She had to do this. She had gotten everyone into this mess. It was her fault. And now she had to make it right. And if it took some creep ogling at her for a couple of minutes, it would be worth it.

"Excellent," he said with satisfaction. "But I must warn you of one tiny little detail first. A small rule."

She let out a puff of a sigh at this proclamation. "Another rule. Just what I need. Why should I trust you if you're just like them?" She asked, upset. She was going to make him work for this, to show how desperate he was, how pathetic she could make him seem.

"Baby, trust me. I can make all of your problems go away. There's just a set of conditions. Please, my darling, just agree. They are just for my sake. Surely you can make one small sacrifice for me in exchange for everything I am offering you, hm?"

She forced her lips into a crooked, bashful smile. "All right, I suppose."

"Very well," he replied, "the only condition is that you may not go back on your word."

"What do you mean?" She asked, sincerely confused.

"Once you agree to this, you agree for good. There's no taking back your agreement, or there will be consequences."

"What kind of consequences?"

"Grave consequences. You don't want to know."

"But-"

"Let's just say you don't want to end up like the last sorry lot who disobeyed me. Those Garcia and Li bitches. Boy were they sorry when I got done with them."

"I don't understand, what did they do wrong?" She asked, disguising her outraged tone in a timid one.

Reich sighed, obviously upset at the pause in his plan. "They turned their back on me after I gave them everything I had. All I was doing was helping them, and they go and squeal on me, after everything I did for them," his eyes got hard as if reliving the memory. He kicked a chair down and pounded his fist on the table in rage and frustration. He steadied his breathing as he looked back down at Erin. "But you look too sweet to do anything like that to me. You're a good girl, aren't you Juliette?"

Erin managed a trepidation-ridden smile.

"Don't you worry, just behave yourself, and everything will be fine," he said, placing a hand on her leg. "I can make everything better."

"Gordon, what-"

"Shh," he said, closing his eyes, and brushing a hair out of her face. "It's okay."

He placed the other hand on her collarbone and massaged her neck.

She closed her eyes.

She was in deep.

SVU SVU SVU

"Well, is there anything else in his file that we can potentially bring up again? Anything shred of evidence that hasn't been dropped?" Cragen asked, folding his arms in frustration. This guy was suspicious, too suspicious to let back out. But if the situation didn't warrant any formal charges, his hands were tied.

"Not that we found, Captain," Olivia replied, rubbing her neck in irritation.

"Not even a parking ticket? C'mon, there has to be something."

"I'm afraid not. We didn't find anything in his file that stuck."

"Then look harder. If you think that this-"

Cragen was interrupted by the sound of a crash, followed by a pound that echoed throughout the precinct. Each of the detectives stopped their fidgeting and focused their attention on the door, and then on each other. All of them had that same, questioning, concerned look in their eyes, and they shifted simultaneously from their seats to venture out to find the source of the racket.

"It came from the right," Elliot informed.

"Probably Reich's room. It sounds like he's throwing a tantrum in there. What is he, two?" Olivia spat, annoyed, while jogging down the hallway along with Elliot and Cragen. Babysitting criminals was not her favorite past time - especially when they threw impromptu hissy fits.

Elliot cracked his neck before throwing open the door, prepared to chastise or calm the man from injuring himself of the furniture in the room. However, upon seeing the sight of him and Erin in a compromising, and uncomfortable, position, he went from seeing the scene to seeing only red. Before Olivia, Cragen, or superman could stop him, he went charging. He became a raging bull, a rabid horse just out of the gates.

He sprinted through the small space and knocked Gordon off of Erin with one swift, hard, tackling blow.

"You son of a bitch," he gritted through his teeth, his face already turning a bright, crimson hue. "You absolute son of a bitch! You are a piece of work, you know that? I ought to take you out right now," he seethed in a dangerously low whisper, pinning him to the hard, concrete wall by his shirt collar. "I have the mind to strangle you at this very second!" he hollored, slapping a hand onto his neck, slowly curling his fingers tighter and tighter around his throat.

"Elliot!" Cragen bellowed, yanking him off the man by the back of his shirt. "Come on, let's go," he said half-heartedly, knowing it was his job to stop Elliot from doing anything irrationally violent. However, he secretly wouldn't mind watching him beat up on this one. He had seen exactly what Elliot had, and he understood his reaction. He'd never admit it, but in the moment, if Elliot hadn't beaten him do it, he would have done the same, or at least been extremely tempted to.

With the fabric of Elliot's shirt still in his hand, Cragen quickly surveyed the scene to see if it was under control.

Gordon was still up against the wall, clearly in shock from the events of the past few seconds. He wasn't going to try anything any time soon.

Elliot was still shooting him a death-glare, physically shaking from rage; his hand balled up into a fist, but wasn't making any move to pounce. Every couple milliseconds, he'd shift his scowl from Reich to shoot a concerned glance at Erin, still on the table, her eyes wide and alarmed.

And then there was Olivia, who had made her way closer to the table, but was momentarily at a loss for what to do. She was frozen in place, not moving or making a start to do anything. She made the face he knew well, though. The one that was quickly gathering and sorting information, concocting a game plan in her mind.

Mostly satisfied at the progression of events, Cragen opened the door and ushered Elliot outside first, praying he wouldn't come in and attempt round two.

Eying the still stationary Erin, he walked over to the table and calmly reached out his arm. Noticing the cue, Erin took his hand with a slight, thankful smile. The Captain merely nodded in return, and helped the young girl up off the surface. The table made a creaking sound as she stood, only it sounded like thunder in the otherwise noiseless room.

He put a supportive hand on her shoulder, and gently nudged her from the room as well. Two down, one to go.

He then spied Olivia, her faced changed from determined to something he rarely saw from her: terror. Her eyes conveyed she was petrified, and rightfully so considering what she'd just witnessed. Though they didn't often verbally relay personal information to one another, he knew more about her than he let on. He could read her like an open book, and so he knew that this new role had not been an easy transition for her. But he also knew her strengths, and was certain that she could do this. Sometimes she just needed a little push to be reminded.

"Olivia," he placed a fatherly hand on her back, "you should probably go talk to Erin now," he suggested.

Olivia nodded, and allowed him to lead her out of the concrete room to join the two others he had already directed out.

The four of them stood there for a moment, all just looking at one another, wishing they could read the others' thoughts.

It appeared that Olivia would be the first to break the silence, opening her mouth to speak, but instead changed her mind at the last second, clamping her mouth shut before uttering a sound.

Instead she wordlessly seized Erin's arm, escorting her to the second level of the precinct. While climbing the stairs, Olivia mulled over her options, finally deciding this was a conversation best suited for one of the versatile rooms, one she occasionally used for casual chats with witnesses and watching surveillance videos into the wee hours. It had a table, a couch, and a couple of chairs, making it more comfortable than the dismal interview rooms, but more private than the squad room.

She held open the door in order to usher Erin inside, shutting it immediately once she made her way in. As the door clicked, she leaned her hands against the door for a moment, taking a second to close her eyes and regroup.

"Are you okay?" She asked solemnly, her back still turned away.

"I'm fine," Erin replied, non-emotional except for a small shake in her voice.

"Really fine?" Olivia asked, shifting her attention to the girl.

"Yes," Erin said in the same tone as before.

Unconvinced, Olivia crossed her arms. "Take off your sweater."

"What?" Erin furrowed an eyebrow.

"Just do it," Olivia ordered.

Erin complied, lifting the navy fabric off and tossing it onto the couch, standing there in her white, button-down blouse.

"Arms out," the older woman instructed, scanning the appendages, checking them for marks of any kind. "Flip them over." Content to find no major bruises, gashes, cuts or scratches on her exposed limbs, she grabbed a chair. "Sit," she demanded. Casually complacent, Erin took a seat.

Olivia hesitated, but, figuring it was better to be safe than sorry, walked behind Erin and lifted her hair.

"What are you doing?" Erin deadpanned, wondering if Olivia had gone crazy.

"Making sure you don't have any life-threatening injuries you're not telling me about," she said, surveying her neck in the same fashion as her arms.

"Well thanks, but it's not going to be necessary," Erin joked light-heartedly with a slight smile.

"Look, either I can do a quick once-over or we can go to the hospital, your choice," she retorted harshly.

"My bad," Erin replied softly. Why was Olivia snapping at her?

Once she was satisfied that nothing appeared to be in immediate medical danger, Olivia got up from her formerly kneeling position and walked to the front of the teenager.

"So you're fine, right? Nothing's broken, nothing's bleeding, nothing's bruised beyond repair?"

"Not that I know of…"

"And other than that you're okay, right? He didn't get too far or anything?" She asked, absolutely hating having to ask that question.

"No."

"Good," she said quickly. "Good. Now." She repeated, pausing for a deep breath. "Now do you mind telling me just what the hell you were thinking?"

"Listen, Olivia, I'm really sorry about-"

"No," she replied simply in a stern manner.

"But-" Olivia held out her hand to stop the protest, shaking her head with an inarguable firmness that Erin had never witnessed before.

"Not this time. Sorry isn't going to work right now. Sorry can't work. You've used up all of your sorry's. Your chances, they're gone now," she said, solidifying the announcement with a prompt hortizontal motion of her hands.

"Whoa, hold up, what are you talking about?" Erin asked, putting her hand out in defense.

"Are you serious?" Olivia said with a dry laugh. "You just walked in a room with a potential killer, Erin. You can't just do that."

"I was doing what needed to be done," she justified.

"You are not allowed to do this," she pointed at Erin, ignoring her last comment. "You cannot continue this behavior of jumping the gun and-and putting your life in danger!" Olivia yelled.

"I can take care of myself," Erin said evenly.

"No. No you really can't. And that naivety makes me very clear that you can't."

"Listen, I don't know why you're freaking out at me, I was trying to help."

"Oh my God," Olivia whimpered helplessly, collapsing onto the couch, putting her head in her hands.

"What?" Erin asked brashly.

"The fact that you're sitting here, and that you honestly believe that you did nothing wrong scares the hell out of me."

"Look, I can see why you're upset and all, but I still don't see the big deal. I'm capable of holding my own. I've done things like this before."

"No, you haven't," Olivia said with conviction.

"Okay, then what do you want to call last spring?"

"That was different."

"How?"

"I was there, Elliot was there, there were numerous precautions and you were protected," she cleared.

"So, what, on my own I'm just a weak little damsel in distress?"

"Erin-" Olivia grunted in frustration.

"What?' she shrugged heatedly. "That's basically what you're implying," she accused, taking offense to her insinuations.

"You cannot keep prancing around into the middle of all this. I can not and will not allow it! Period!" Olivia screamed, finally losing her ever-present cool and leaping off the couch.

"I'm already in the middle of it!" Erin followed suit, jumping up as well.

"Then get out of it!"

"I can't do that!"

"Well you're gonna have to learn to! This isn't just your problem anymore! Keep this up, and you could soon very well have my job on the line!" she jabbed her pointer towards the door.

"I don't have a choice!" Erin cried helplessly.

"You're right!" Olivia yelled, stopping herself. She needed to start acting mature, get herself under control, and handle this rationally. "You're right. You don't have a choice anymore. Consider yourself grounded."

"You can't ground me for something I felt like I had to do," she defended angrily, lowering her voice as well.

"Oh really?" Olivia questioned, raising an eyebrow, daring her defiance. "Watch me," she said, not taking her eyes off of the younger girl.

Erin crossed her arms and matched her hard look, also determined to win the battle of wills. "How long?" she asked. She was too smart to disagree further, but too stubborn to give in completely.

"As long…as I feel is necessary," Olivia stumbled. She hadn't really given much thought to that. It kind of just flew out of her mouth.

"What, I can't even get a number? Even prisoners get a general idea of when they get to be released from jail," she sassed.

"Fine. Three weeks," Olivia replied, still engaging in the stare down.

"That's crap."

"Four," Olivia responded without missing a beat.

Erin held her tongue for fear of hearing "five, six, seven, eight."

They continued eying each other with rigid willpower.

"Whatever," Erin finally caved, looking away for the time being.

Olivia gave a slight nod of her head, acknowledging the conversation to be over. She turned to walk out the door before Erin's voice stopped her.

"Permission to speak?"

"Fine," Olivia spun back around, arms folded across her chest.

"Do you really think I wanted to go in there? I mean, do you honestly think in my head I said 'hey, how about I go set myself up as bait for a potential sexual predator, that sounds like a dandy way to spend my afternoon'?"

"It doesn't matter why you went in there; the fact is that you did."

"Okay, but do you honestly think I wanted to piss you off?"

"You didn't piss me off," Olivia admitted, slowly making her way over to where Erin was still standing. "You scared me, kid," she said with a small humorless laugh to keep herself from tears. "I mean you really, really had me nervous standing in there," she took another chair from the table, setting it next to Erin's. "If something would have happened in there, if you'd become like one of those victims I see everyday," she folded her hands and shook her head, trying to shake the images from her mind, "I don't know what I would have done," she confessed, looking over her shoulder to hide her face, allowing a single tear to fall.

Erin finally gave a sigh, uncrossing her arms and collapsing on the chair again, putting her face in her hands. "I know. And I really am sorry for worrying you. But you've got to understand - I had to do it, Olivia."

"No, you didn't," she said, still firmly, but without sharpness.

"All right, well at least I felt like I had to do it. I just-he deserves the truth. His family deserves closure."

"I know," Olivia said gently, "which is why you should let me handle it. You know I'll do everything to get him justice."

"But that's just the thing! I can't, I can't just…just sit on the sidelines. I can't just let him get away with it."

"He's not going to get away with it, but throwing yourself into the line of danger isn't going to make it any better."

"How do you know that?"

"Because, I've been doing this a lot longer than you have, and I will guarantee you that sacrificing yourself is not going to help this situation in the slightest."

"It might. It would have if I'd have done something earlier," she said the second sentence more quietly, biting her nail and looking at the wall.

"No. What do you mean?"

"If-if I'd stopped him, from going, if I didn't say I had to leave to talk to Chris, maybe he wouldn't have gone. Maybe he'd still be alive."

"What are you talking about?"

"On the phone," she started to tear up. "The night Fernando died. Chris came, and I told him I had to go. And I hung up, and after-" she gulped a breath, her voice wet with tears. "It doesn't even matter anymore. It's too late now. But it wasn't too late then. And I let it happen."

"You think this is your fault," Olivia said with sudden realization. It all made sense now. The details of the nightmare. The obsession with getting justice herself. It all fit. "Erin, no one's blaming you."

"I'm blaming me!" she pointed to herself, jabbing her chest with her thumb.

"No one thinks you're guilty here," Olivia shook her head.

"But I know I am!" she cried hysterically.

"But listen, honey, you aren't," she made sure to make eye-contact. She really needed to hear this. The guilt could eat someone alive. It was almost more lethal than despair, feeling responsible for the horrendous happenings of another. "You can't think that. You can't keep blaming yourself for something out of your control or you'll go crazy."

"But what if I didn't hang up? What if I could have saved him?" Olivia listened to her illogical, fruitless questions, running one hand through the girl's hair and the other over her eyes to clear the tears. She did this to comfort both the girl and herself. In order for her to explain, she herself would have to revisit a memory, still a relatively fresh wound in her mind.

"You have to stop thinking about the what-ifs. Trust me, babe, it does no good. No matter how many times you run scenarios through your head, you've got to understand that you can't stop the horrible fate of someone else. That you couldn't have if you tried. I would know."

"How?"

Olivia blinked and took a breath, ready to relieve the painful memory for the sake of the damaged girl beside her.

What do you think she's going to tell her? Sorry if this felt like an awkward splitting point. I was very torn on whether to break it up here or not. In fact, I was so concerned that I legitimately resorted to asking a magic 8 ball app. Not even kidding. ("Should I cut this chapter off here?" "The results indicate: yes.") And who am I to dare question the magic 8 ball? No one!

Love you all and your continued support! Thanks a zillion! Please tell me what you thought about this chapter! Feedback is my crack! (Whoa dude, that rhymed…)

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