Authors Note: This is going to be a series of one shots that examine Olivia Benson's rise to the position of Captain, through the years. I am trying to create a line from her childhood, her time in the academy, and then season by season. This first entry will be the longest. With all others being around drabble length, by comparison

As you can see from my other stories, sometimes I have to take long breaks. I know it's not ideal, and I apologize for it... but writing is not something that comes easily to me, in practice. And, my life & work often take over my time... so, I have to take months/years off of a project. It sucks. But, it's my reality. I will return to them, though, I promise. The Shelter in Place in my state right now has allowed me to get into the head space to work on a few new things, which I'm posting now, as well as some updates for Last Call, and The Rookie. Thanks for sticking with me if you have read my other stories in progress.

I hope everyone is staying safe and well.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of this. These stories are written for fun and to create something different. I, Cracker Jack, make no attempts to infringe on copyright or make a profit from the following writings.

PS: Trigger Warning for this first piece. Descriptions of violence and physical assault.

1985

It was cold out.

Colder than she had expected given the time of year.

...Then again, she was coming down from a massive adrenaline rush… and was now... she was pretty sure, at least... going in to the early stages of shock.

Hence the cold...

or rather... the full body trembles that had begun running through her body so hard that it could almost be described as painful.

Though, the feeling of trembling uncontrollably was surely not as painful as the hard succession of slaps she had received to the face just a few hours earlier...which, was probably why she was beginning to feel the onset of a migraine.

…Perhaps she had a concussion.

Whatever the case, she was definitely going into shock.

Olivia had learned about the signs of shock years before, when an emergency room doctor had taken a look at her 14 year old arm, and began listing off the various symptoms she was showing.

Pale.

Trembling.

Dizzy.

Confused.

Rapid, but shallow breathing.

They had brought a social worker in later; after the doctor had wrapped her arm.

Probably because the medical staff treating her had seen more than one injury on the X-ray when they had looked at her right wrist and determined there had been a clean break through the ulna and ad the distal radial joint.

She had told the social worker, and the doctor that it was from Volley Ball.

Too much aggressive play, coupled with teenage imbalance.

Olivia had even weaved an elaborate, almost comical, story to address the partially healed black eye… Volley Ball right to the face, during match point. She had joked that she had been thrown out of the game because she had ducked under the net and swiftly lunged at the girl from the (fake) rival team that had spiked the ball.

She didn't tell the truth

… That her mother had pushed her so hard she had fallen backwards and hit her arm on the coffee table.

That, days before, her mother grabbed Olivia by the nape of her neck and pushed her face into the pages of a dictionary. One she was making her daughter read after getting a B- on an english exam that morning at school. The force of it was so hard, and so fast, so unexpected, that Olivia had only had a micro-second to shift position so as not to break her nose, taking the black eye instead.

Yeah, Olivia had become very convincing over the years… and, for some reason the doctor had bought it.

Regardless, the next time she needed to go to the hospital, she resolved to go to Mercy rather than Central West, since they had seen her enough now to get suspicious.

It was perhaps 2:15am, and the park was quiet.

The bench she sat atop was a bit damp from a mid-day storm system that had pushed its way through Manhattan.

Most people would feel scared at the prospect of being on the west side of central park in the middle of the night.

But Olivia knew there were worse things to be scared of than the dark.

... Like a drunken parent with unchecked rage.

A person with the belief that they had nothing left to lose.

This most recent fight with her mother had been a big one. Not as bad as when she had needed to call Simone, of course; but almost being stabbed by the jagged edge of a bottle being wielded by your vodka-soaked mother was not an every day occurrence.

Getting hit though. That was bi-weekly… or at least, the attempt at a hit to the face was. At 17, Olivia was now taller and stronger than her mother, so most times she could move past the smaller woman… but sometimes Serena reacted with a speed, matched only by the vitriol that poured out of her mouth, and cornered Olivia before she could get away.

This one, this fight, had been about what most of the fights had been about as of late.

Leaving for college.

Her mother was nothing if not a series of constant contradictions. Olivia was used to it by now.

Her mother could lament about the familiar features of her daughter's father, and why she couldn't stand looking into her own child's wide eyes that didn't look like her own, in one breath, and beg her never to leave in the next… the mark of a person so emotionally injured, that it would likely take years to unpack in Olivia's mind.

Her mother wanted her to stay in the city. Go to Columbia.

But Olivia wanted to go outside the city. To Sienna. She had received practically a full ride, and despite being able to get her education at Columbia pretty much for free since her mother was faculty, she wanted to leave. And, Sienna was going to pay her to do it.

Olivia wanted to make her own way.

To get away.

Her mother knew it… and, she resented Olivia for it.

Olivia had sent in her Letter of Acceptance behind her mother's back, taking what money she had been able to collect from her part-time waitressing job on the weekends to pay the tuition deposit.

When her mother had found out, she had been furious.

...Which his why Olivia was sitting in the park now. Cold. ...and most assuredly, unwell.

"Excuse me."

Olivia jerked at the noise, looking up towards the curve of the walking path just to her right. It was pretty dark, but she could make out a shadowed figure slowly walking toward her bench. Olivia fought the urge to get up and run. Anyone could have been in the park at this time of night.

Within another 10 seconds, a woman, hispanic, now stood in front of her, bedecked in a navy blue uniform. She reached for the flashlight at her waist, deftly directing it to point at Olivia in one smooth motion.

Olivia felt her eyes narrow as light washed over her face. "Ugh…" Olivia said involuntarily as the full intensity of the bright flashlight hit her consciousness.

"Hey, kid, Are you okay?" The woman asked, her voice laced with concern as she looked Olivia up and down.

No. The answer was no. "Y-Yes, officer. I'm fine."

"What are you doing out here at this time of night?"

"Just h-had to get away….. Olivia said, trying to make sure her tone did not betray the shiver in her voice."Just h-had to g-get some air." She was unsuccessful.

The cop stooped down now to look Olivia in the eyes, sensing that there was something going on… like any good cop. "At 2am? ...How old are you?"

"T-twenty two." Olivia said without evening blinking. She had passed for older before, given her tall frame, and mature looks. She had no interest in the possibilities of what could happen if someone in a position of power found out about her situation.

"Liar." The female officer said without pause. She pulled at the radio on her shoulder, bringing it to her lips "Ramosa portable to Central, I have an unattended minor in the park. Fresh bruising to her right temple and cheek, busted lip. Looks like an assault."

A voice crackled over the radio, "Copy. Bring her in. Medical support will be waiting."

"No!" Olivia exclaimed, before she could stop herself, simultaneously reaching her left hand to her lips and feeling the sticky wetness of blood on her finger tips. As if on cue she began to taste iron as her tongue drew across the surface of her bottom lip.

A confirmation.

Clearly, Olivia's attempt to clean herself up in her bathroom before she snuck out of the apartment hours earlier... had not been effective.

Without pause, the officer reached for her radio once more. "Central. Hold for a moment." She moved from her lowered position to sit on the park bench next to Olivia. She sat her flashlight between them but let it remain on.

"Look kid, my partner is like a quarter of a mile down that trail and he is making his way up here now that I've radioed in. You need to tell me whats going on. Once he gets here, we will take you to the station. At minimum, its past curfew, and you should not be out right now. But more importantly, you clearly have something going on. You look like you've taken one or two strong hits to he face, and I'm pretty sure you need a doctor…. so, you can tell me what's up, or you can get booked for breaking curfew... which is it?" The Officer said, her voice stern, but warm.

It was rare for Olivia to loose it, really. She was usually the one with the placid face as her mother shouted at her that she was a whore, or worse, that she would be as horrific a person as her father.

But Olivia could not hold her stoic composure. It was too damn cold, and she felt like shit, and this cop was going to arrest her... which would make everything worse... so much worse.

... and with that, tears began running down her cheeks in quick succession. Olivia covered her face with her hands. "I just got into a fight, that's all."

"With who?"

"…. no one important." The tears were coming faster now, and Olivia began attempting to rub her face. Tactical error. It was painful, and she winced, audibly.

"What's your name?"

"Um…. what." Olivia looked over at the officer now.

"Your name, kid. What is it?" The expression of the cop remained neutral. No frustration.

After another few seconds, she answered, "Olivia."

... The officer nodded. This was getting somewhere, but she needed more.

"My name is Officer Ramosa." She offered, taking a slightly different tact. "You have a last name, Olivia?"

"No…"

"No, you're not gonna tell me, or no you don't have a last name." Her voice was still soft, but laced with a bit of annoyance now.

"…"

Officer Ramosa sighed, and shifted her position on the seat slightly, leaning forward. "Everyone has a last name, Olivia. Tell me your's, please."

"Madonna does not have a last name." Olivia said without thinking.

"Yes she does." Ramosa exclaimed.

"No, she does not." Olivia didn't much care if she was wrong. If anything this was a stalling tactic for her.

"Yes. She does. It's Ciccone."… The officer turned away from Olivia then, looking forward and narrowing her eyes. "This is how I know you're a minor, Olivia. Adults don't argue about shit you can read in Rolling Stone."

Olivia bent her head down so it was practically touching her knees, lacing her fingers at the back of her skull. Her head was really starting to hurt, and frankly, at this point, she knew further stalling was fruitless. "Benson." She said, her voice muffled.

"What? The officer turned back to look at her.

"My last name is... Benson."

"Great. Now we're getting somewhere." The officer smiled softly, turning now to look toward the light sound of footsteps approaching from the left.

"Tiff… what's going on." A large man came out from behind a layer of brush just to the left of the bench.

Olivia glanced from her bent position to the side briefly to get a look at him. Given the time of night, all Olivia could make out was his imposing shadow.

"Got a minor here. Bruised and confused. Her name is Olivia Benson." The older woman rose from her position on the bench.

"She tell you the name of her attacker?" He asked, his voice gruff. He approached his partner, and looked toward the teenage girl, who for all intents and purposes, was still hiding her face.

"No..." Ramosa sighed softly, looking into the shadowed eyes of the man next to her. She leaned in, whispering now..."And, ah... I don't think she is going to tell me."

He mirrored his partner's position and voice. "Are we going to bring her in?..." He responded.

Ramosa shook her head. "Let's just keep this low key. Bring her in for medical, and then let her go... I think anything else would be traumatic... and I'm getting the feeling this could be familial. Mom or Dad, or something... we could make it worse if we arrest her for curfew."

He nodded in understanding. "Hey... kid..."

Olivia looked up then, revealing her face to him for the first time.

"Jesus, Tiffany." He glanced at his partner... swallowing hard.

"I know...," Ramosa looked toward Olivia.

Taking a few steps toward the younger woman, the female officer knelt down in front of her once again... "Olivia Benson." She said, softly.

Olivia's eyes went wide. Oh god, they were going to arrest her! Her bottom lip began to tremble, and tears erupted, running with more force down her face, now.

Ramosa saw this... knew that this young was fearful, and confused. "Hey..." She began, her voice keeping its calming quality. "Hey, Olivia... I'll make you a deal, okay..."

Olivia sniffled, her eyes narrowing. Where was this going? She shook her head slightly. "I can't get arrested... I will... it will... she will get worse." Olivia clamped her hand over her mouth then, and began making a movement as if she was going to get off the bench.

Ramosa looked back at her partner then, before putting a hand on each of Olivia's knees to ensure that she didn't run. "Hey... " She said with a bit more gusto. Olivia, snapped her attention back to the woman in front of her. "I...I'll make you a deal... You let me and Officer Blake here take you to get your face looked at... and, uh we won't book you."

Olivia calmed slightly.

"Officer Blake, will you radio to central that we are coming in, and to make sure Marcus has the medical kit, while I talk to Olivia for another minute."

Blake nodded, turning away from them.

The female officer leaned forward. She was very close now, and whispered, "Look Olivia... I'm gonna ask you some question's and all you have to do is nod. Okay. You got it?"

Olivia nodded, very slightly.

"Someone you know hurt you tonight, yes?

One nod.

"This person is family to you?"

A second nod in affirmation.

"... This person is you mother...?"

Olivia's face scrunched up in utter agony then, as if the act of confirming everything was painful. She let out a chocked sound as she nodded, once more.

"Do you have anywhere else to go, Olivia?"

... nothing

"Do you have any other family?"

... Olivia's gaze took on a hollow expression then.

Officer Ramosa swallowed hard.

"So... you have no where else to go."

Olivia looked down, tucking her chin to her chest then. ..."No..." She affirmed, in a whisper.

"Okay... Olivia... thank you for answering my questions." Her voice sad.

"Tiffany." Blake said from his position about 10 feet away, having finished radio-ing in. "We ready?"

Ramosa looked to her partner then, nodding, as she stood, lifting her hands from their position at Olivia's knees and moving to wipe off her own of dirt from the path where she had positioned herself moments earlier.

"Olivia has agreed to let us have our Med Tech look at her... and then, she has agreed to let us get her something to eat before taking her home." She turned back to Olivia then. "Right, Kid?"

Olivia rose from the bench then, moving fore the first time in hours. A confused, but... grateful expression beginning to take hold of her features. "Um... yeah."

Blake nodded once in understanding. "Right." He pointed toward the right side of the path then. "Our patrol card is a half mile down." He added before turning to walk down the path ahead of the two women.

Ramosa turned to Olivia, fishing something out of her pocket. "Here is my card... you call the desk Sergeant and ask for Tiffany Ramosa. Next time your mom does this to you, I want you to call me, okay?"

Olivia didn't move to take the card. "I can't..." She began.

Tiffany's expression became a bit desperate then, and she pushed the card into Olivia's hand. "You can call me just to talk. Kid... I'm doing you a favor by not arresting your mother tonight... but you gotta call me, and let me know that you're alright. Okay?"

Olivia took the card in her hand and brought it to her face, looking at the name and number before shifting her gaze back to Ramosa, nodding once. "yeah...Okay." She said softly.

"Alright then. Let's go... Olivia Benson." The woman smiled, taking a step to follow her partner down the path.

Olivia gently placed the card in the back pocket of her jeans, before quickly taking a few steps to catch up with the female officer.

"Thank you." Olivia said, wiping the sleeve of her denim button down across her face to relieve the wetness that had accumulated from tears and blood. She winced again, but it didn't bother her as much this time. Her head was pounding though. "For your... help... for not...not..."

"Hey." The officer interjected, maintaining her stride down the path. "...It's my job."

"Thank you", Olivia said again, unable to communicate everything she was feeling in that moment.

"Thank you." She added once more, a prayer on her lips. "So much."

Thanks for reading. Please feel free to let me know what you think.

Much Respect. Cracker Jack