Fandom: SVU

Title: Legacy

Chapter 1: I'll be watching

P O V: Amanda Rollins

A/N: I only own my ideas, and thoughts the world of SVU belongs to Dick Wolf I just came to visit and play inside of it. Thanks to Christine for your advice and always willingness to talk, everyone check out her fics at Rollinsfrostfan, and another amazing Rolivia shipperSheepish123.

"I wasn't sorry mom was killed in that car crash."

Loud sniffling fills the room as thirteen-year-old Ruby Mesner cries from the cold metal of her brother's gun being pressed to her neck. His words snarled into her ear. I can see her tear-stained cheeks flushed with scarlet fear; Henry's grip is firm, his arm across her chest, which he's pulled her towards, grinning.

"She got what she deserved; a mother is supposed to protect her cubs, but our mom didn't give a damn about me. No, wait, that's a lie; she use to care about me. I use to be her little man."

Henry's voice booms out against the dead still of the night, the quiet punctuated by Henry's venom; only four people are inside the fun-house. Henry and Ruby who are somewhere in this maze of hundred mirror hell. Their silhouettes reflect, leading me on a chase to find their location; he wants us to see his little show a born psychopath since birth Henry has no regard for consequences; he's void of empathy for other people's pain, or fear he doesn't feel guilt when he plays these mind games because he lives to be in control my narcissistic side is screaming at me hurry in every sense of the words mentally get ahead of him, get inside his head figure out his next move; and physically to go faster before it's too late; before Ruby becomes Henry's latest murder victim.

My partner Kat- Azar Taemin is sneaking up behind Henry by crawling below the mirror's sight. Her movements are slow but precise. My heart is beating in fear for her safety, and Ruby's. Kat's hands are pinned under the weight of her entire body, holding herself up as she crawls. If he spots her, she'll have no time to react; he'll shot her dead within seconds.

I have to keep him talking to give her time to get into a position where she can tackle him or take a shot. Kat never misses when she fires her gun; she's scary accurate, maybe even better of a shot than I am; and I am flawless as Annie Oakley hence my nickname by my old Captain Cragen. "You blame Ruby for your mother's lack of attention, Henry?"

"I don't blame her, detective, for the sake of blaming her. I blame her because it's true ever since she was born; Ruby has been mother's little angel, the fragile china doll we must protect and treasure. She forgot about me the second she came into the world. Me; her son, her firstborn, her little man pushed aside, and Ruby never let me forget about it; she wouldn't stop whining no matter what I did after her birth it was never good enough, I was too loud or too rough with her."

"She wouldn't let you be a kid, would she, Henry? Your mom didn't understand that little boys need to run and crash things. They need to jump off the roof to see if they can fly; even if they get hurt, they need to have that experience to test their boundaries. Little boys need to test their strength by throwing things, make it their mission to destroy All The Stuff–parents own."

"See, you get it, detective Rollins, you understand how little boys are, we're not evil, or beyond repair, we're loud, and adventurous because it's in our nature you have a little boy, so you get us. Holden, isn't it?"

The mention of my son's name causes my heart to race faster instantly; the vision of my son fills my memory. How did he know my son? Where does he know him from? There isn't a question if I should be worried about antisocial psychopaths like Henry; there isn't anything not calculated they live to torment and tease to get their targets nervous and scared. He wants to see a reaction from me. He knows he is winning.

"I guess you got her back, huh, Henry? You showed her she made a mistake underestimating you, dismissing you. Your father, Henry, believed in you. Loved you, stood by you, invited you into his home. You killed him anyway, was it because he wouldn't divorce your stepmother, and she doubted your serenity and ability to change, tried to get him to stop visiting you? She didn't want you to come to live with them. She feared you, the way your mother did in the end. Argo, he wasn't your brother because he was part of her as well, so you took them all out as a show of power."

Psychopaths love excitement. They like to have constant action in their lives, and they frequently want to live in the "fast lane." Their need for stimulation often involves breaking rules enjoy the thrill of getting away with something; they like the fact that they could "get caught" at any moment.They often struggle to stay engaged in dull and repetitive tasks, and they may be intolerant of routines. I have to switch things up; he'll get bored if I keep going down this route, I can see his eyes wandering; Kat's safety leaps to my first thought; he'll keep Ruby alive he needs her as leverage.

"You got back at everyone who hurts you congratulations, Henry. You are the master; too bad your parents aren't here to see how smart their son has become."

"Don't mock me, detective; I know what you are doing. I am not stupid, and you're mistaken. I didn't get back at everyone. Not yet; you're still alive."

"It wasn't Ruby's fault, Henry. She was only five-years-old."

His eyes directly connect with mine as his fingers tighten around the trigger. "So whose fault was it then?"

"It was mine, Henry; after you shot my partner Nick, I made sure you got sent away; you should have stayed locked up." Ruby's whimpers of fear turn to screams; in the blink of an eye, Henry pushes her away, firing his gun directly towards me. The sound of the shot penetrates the otherwise quiet air; I can't see the bullet. Even with all these mirrors, it's lightning-fast; the sound of the gun being fired, however, is enough for me to jump out of the way.

"Rollins! Rollins, can you hear me?"

Sirens fill the air. I can hear the twenty-plus police cruisers pulling up outside. Olivia Benson's voice desperately tries to communicate with me, but I can't speak; sweat is dripping down my face; I am so damn hot I feel as if there's a fire overtaking my body. My adrenaline is in control, and my training has me thinking that this would be where I would get shot.

It would justify me shooting Henry if I can get a clean shot, but he's only eighteen years old. Should shooting him be my first instinct? Will I care if I kill him? Even in self-defense, no one will be angry if he dies. Ruby would probably be glad, but I will have to live with the remorse? The same way I see Holden March's face inside my eyes every night when I close my eyes. It's been nearly eight years since they killed him, but I still have nightmares about his shooting. I didn't even fire the gun, but Holden's blood is still on my hands; I feel it some nights, the warm, slick liquid covering me.

The guilt of his shooting has eaten me alive. What would have happen to me if I shoot and kill Henry with no witnesses? I can't find Kat, so I can't see if she has an unobstructed view. All I know is this bastard stalked Jesse, and he had pictures of my little girl on his phone. Everyone knows I have it out for him? I could tell the truth that for a split second, I was scared and thought he would shoot me.

Would people cry police brutality for a white kid, or would it clear me based on the facts? He's a psychopath who stalked my family, killed three people, raped a teenage girl, and left her for dead; he kidnapped his sister.

I have a right to be scared, right? He's holding a gun; he fired at me. We're in the darkened maze of a building. I don't know the layout too. Or have they had trained me to be scared, to fire before thinking? Police officers aren't prepared to shoot to kill; we're taught to incapacitate. I must have heard "shoot to incapacitate" about 5,000 times in my career. It's the substitution of a technical term for a literal one. However, when a police officer is killed in the line of duty, you never hear it referred to as "incapacitated in the line of duty." They taught us to shoot at "center mass"—the body above the waist below the neck—because it's the most prominent and easiest to aim for; it's no coincidence that center mass is where vital organs live.

"Rollins, if you can hear me, and you are okay, click your radio." there's desperation inside Olivia's voice. I have to be okay with her; I am her responsibility. Olivia can't take losing someone else she cares for, especially on her watch. Cops are supposed to be heroes and first responders and run toward danger, but it sure seemed like our training teaches us to be afraid of everyone. Olivia is worried about my safety; it's her job as my captain to make sure her team all comes home. You don't always see the threat coming for you, but the fear is ever-present in our minds whenever we go out on a call. She lost Mike Dobbs because of gunfire, and she's never forgiven herself for allowing him to be inside that home alone, unarmed. Even though she didn't send me in here, she knows how emotionally attached I am to this kid, his case, and after he threatened my daughter; she didn't pull me from the case.

If I get shot and die, she'll blame herself. I can't raise my hand to click my radio. I try, but there's something wrong: my left arm feels heavy and paralyzed. Crap, what's going on with my body? I'm suddenly very dizzy; my entire body has gone cold. My throat has tightened; it feels dry; even if I could click the radio, I couldn't respond. White-hot pain seers through my entire body, originating on the left side of my abdomen. I can't see my hand, but when I move my right one to my stomach, I feel something wet and sticky cover it. Fear seizes my body. Every thought I have ever had that this would be the moment has become a reality.

Someone has shot me.

The bullet entered my left side; it's shredding its way through my body. I can feel the pain spreading as the bullet tears muscles, nerves, blood vessels. I stumble back, gasping in fear and intense pain. I've never felt pain this blinding before; even when I was shot in the arm, it didn't hurt like this. My legs stumble I fall backward hard. My gun clatters to my side; the room spins in a dizzying array of colors and reflections of my body failing. The air rushes past me; it's cool and dusty. My throat gets even drier than my eyes water. A burning, aggravating sensation spreads throughout my body, clutching my chest in fear; Henry's laughter follows as my back hits the ground, fading in and out of consciousness, I'm thinking, this is it. I'm about to die.

I always feared getting reshot, but I never thought it would happen; you never allow yourself to grasp the concept of your own mortality fully. Until you have to, my odds are never in my favor. I suppose being a cop in NYC in an elite unit, this day and age where civil protest is on the rise, and crime in NYC is at the highest.

I was raised as a southern baptist, meaning they dragged my ass to church from the time I was three days old; I was saved at age seven and pledged to the church forever at age fifteen. None of this was my choice. It was tradition, and in the south, traditions are the bible. We live them; we breathe them; we preach them, and we die by them.

It's why I got the fuck out of the south, but even leaving couldn't shake my spiritual faith. Taking my cues and direction from a higher power that I believe co-orchestrates my life and destiny with me, I rebelled against it for a long time, did what I wanted, and said to hell with what God wanted. It was my life, and I would live it any way I wanted. Damn the consequences in the afterlife. There are crossroads moments in life between destiny and rebellion, moments that change everything through some combination of fate, higher power, and my own decisions.

"Death is closer to life than we think, detective Rollins, and your death is closer than you think. Tell me, does it hurt? It looks painful, but it's nothing compared to the agony I faced every day being locked away. I lost my childhood because of you, bitch. I never got to kiss a girl or spend all day in an amusement park with a girlfriend; I didn't get to attend school find a passion in life. I grew up behind glass windows bared to keep me inside; I didn't get to be held by mommy or have her kiss away my pain. Yes, Rollins, I feel pain too."

My mind screams in agony as Henry slams his steel-toed boots down on my wound. I can't yell out loud, though; my screams are trapped inside my mind the way actors' voices were silenced in black and white movies. Henry doesn't stop there; he kicks my gun and stomps on my hand; the shattering sound of bones breaking fills the air, taking away my breath.

"Funny how life and death look so much like arts and crafts, we get to shape our destines choose where we go in life, who we become; what we like and don't like. Most of us do; They took away my choices from me when I was ten years old. Thanks to you, bitch. Only a few years older than your son, huh? How is precious Holden? He's a good-looking boy; it would be ashamed if anything happened to him, wouldn't it? I wonder if he's as trusting as Jesse; she was so sweet hugging me. Do you think Holden would play with me if I went up to him, asked him to toss a football around? He likes football. I never got to be on my high school team; I would've made it, you know if they gave me a chance to attend school. I am excellent at tossing things; ask Snowball or Ruby. I tossed them both one into the tub before I burned it alive. You should have heard its cries, pathetic creature. I can imagine it's how you're crying inside right now, Rollins."

Henry is kneeling beside me, looking into my eyes, sneering. I can't talk or react in any way; the pain has seized control. "Tell me, is Savannah as sweet and trusting as Jesse? Good looking daughters, you have Amanda, and she's the perfect age to have some fun with between the sheets. I bet she's wild and freaky like her mother. I heard her sing; she has a beautiful voice, and I know I can make her sing my name all night."

"Don't worry, Amanda, I'll make sure my arms and other body parts comfort her after she learns about your death."

Cruel body twisting anger burns through my veins. I want to rip the little bastard's smile from his face and punch him until he dies a slow, painful death from a brain bleed. I want to choke the life out of him, straddling him so I can look into his soulless eyes and watch the life drain out of him inch by inch without a shred of remorse.

"Freeze, NYPD!" Henry jumps up, taking off as Kat's gun goes off. I hear a grunt cry of pain, showing it hit somewhere him, but I can't see him; all I see is Kat, who is suddenly kneeling beside me. "10-13 shots fired by and at police. A police officer has been hit; I repeat an officer is down; the suspect is fleeing on foot out the south entrance; he is armed and dangerous. I need a bus stat officer in distress."

Kat's hands fly to my stomach, pressing hard until my body is cold and numb. I'm too cold. It's a bad sign. My stomach is nauseous; I can't hear what she's saying to me now; my ears are ringing, and I feel a sharp cold tingle running through my body.

I'm dying, and I can't force myself to be brave; I'm scared, so damn nervous. Not for me. I made peace with my demons and sins a long time ago. I know I will go to heaven and see Jesus. I'm scared for my kids; what will happen to them? Their dad is overseas fighting in the war against terrorism; who will raise them? I know legally I named Olivia their guardian, but will she take on the responsibility? She already has a son, Noah, and a full-time career. Can she handle two more kids? Does she even want the job? What's to stop her from putting them in foster care when I am gone?

"Hang in there, Rollins; help is coming. Think of your kids; do not give up!" Kat is young and innocent; she's never had kids because she would know how ignorant the statement think of my kids is if she did. A mother thinks of her kids day and night; they are every waking thought, worry, hope, and fear; everything we do is for them to have a better, safer tomorrow, a life to build free of pain and anxiety. A mother's number one job is to protect her children in every aspect of life; even if it's not possible, we never stop trying.

"Dear Jesus."

I pray inside my mind since speaking is still impossible. "Don't let this be my last call. I know you are my creator, my savior, and therefore it is your choice when I come home. I'm begging you, please, Jesus, let me live to see my kids grow up. They need their mama; my time on earth isn't done, do not let them experience the pain of another goodbye."

"Rollins! Answer me damn it, Rollins, Kat! Respond."

"Over here, Captain!"

Olivia is suddenly by my side, her eyes staring into mine. I see the fear and anger radiating behind her beautiful pools of hazel, caramel silk orbs. "Find that son of a bitch, Kat. Now! Don't stop until he's in cuffs or dead." "copy captain."

Every morning when I leave for work; and put on my shield. I say a prayer to come home safe to my kids. I pray for comfort, peace of mind while I face the demons in these streets. People are so angry 2020/2021 has been brutal people are losing their minds.

I'm afraid every day when I go out because I want to be more than a memory in my children's lives, more than a whispered name of a loved one who passed away years prior. Looking into Olivia's eyes, I can see the pain she's trying to hold back so she can be brave for me, but she's scared, so terrified, which scares me because Olivia Margaret Benson doesn't fear; she creates fear in suspects minds; she installs confidence/ hope in her team.

Olivia has defined the term bad-ass for women of generations. I've seen her tackle psychopaths like William Lewis, and Gregory Yates without blinking an eye. I grew up hearing her advocate for justice in crimes against women and special victims; She inspired me to become a cop. If she's scared, then I know it isn't good.

"Liv." my voice cracks; it's soft, filled with bloodied gasps. I can taste the foul iron inside my mouth. "I'm sorry, I defied Fin's orders. Please take care of my kids, make sure they know their mama loves them, and tell them. I am sorry, I can't be there to watch them grow up."

"Amanda, enough talking nonsense; you are going to see your kids grow up. I will accept nothing less. You will not die on me, do you understand me, Rollins? That is a direct order from your Captain."

"Liv, I'm sorry I can't stay. I am so cold; I have to go. I need you to know. I love you, I've been in love with you for a long time, but I was too scared to say anything."

I want to stay and fight, but I am so exhausted I feel as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, admitting to Liv how I feel. The effort to stay alive overwhelmed my mind; talking drained me of what little strength I had left. My mind feels paralyzed by breathing another breath; my eyes feel heavy, so heavy, slick with tears. I am not brave; it's a lie spun by Hollywood and TV when they say those who fall in battle die a valiant death.

I'm fucking scared; I don't want to die; I am too young. I have too much to live for, but no one gave me a choice today. I can feel my body shutting down the world of sight, and sounds are fading. I can't see her beautiful eyes anymore. Everything is dirty and out of focus, but the pain is fading to a dull, sharp tingle of pins and needles. "Tell my kids, Liv. I'll be watching over them."