Authors Note : So... how's everyone feeling. Well, I hope.

I appreciate that people want me to update my other stories. I'm glad you like them enough to ask. At present... those are still on hiatus. I'm not gonna force them... but I do appreciate your patience, and understand if you don't read my stuff because it takes me so long to update or if stories are left in limbo. That's just the way things are for me at the moment.

Have folks enjoyed the first season of L&O:OC. Wow on what is now officially canon on the EO front. It was worth the 20 year wait in my opinion. Looking forward to what they do next. lol

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

Mid-November 1989 - Saturday, 7:28am

Olivia sat in the common area of her company's dorm. Light dappled gently through the window as an early morning rain pattered the large windows with thousands of translucent drops of water. Even with the cool, deeper blue of the late fall morning, Olivia found she had more than enough light for what she needed to do, as she looked through one of her procedure manuals, highlighting sections as she went.

Most everyone else was still in bed or quietly relaxing in their rooms at this hour. Not unusual for a Saturday morning, but Olivia had still been a little surprised for a moment when she stepped into the common space and found ALL of the couches and recliners completely devoid of other cadets. Usually there was one person watching the news on the community TV, or a person stretched across the larger sectional nursing a hangover from a celebratory Friday night.

And, given where they were in their training, Olivia had expected to see someone else hitting the books, trying to absorb that last minute information they needed to attain their goal. Graduation.

It really wasn't that long now. They would be graudating in a matter of weeks.

The whole idea of it was crazy to Olivia in some ways. So much of her time, effort, etc over the past half-decade had been dedicated to getting into the Academy, so that she could do what she was meant to do... be a cop.

But now, it was so close, it almost didn't feel real.

Olivia pulled a face at the thought. She was being silly, if not a bit existential about the whole thing.

This whole thing sure as fuck IS real... For godsake... she would be fitted for her dress unifrom next week, so the tailor could take it in before graduation. WOW.

Now, all she had to do WAS not fuck up the whole thing by passing the myrid of exams and qualifiers that would be coming up in the next few weeks.

There was the Job Standard Test - A series of physical, tactical, and marksmenship qualifiers. The whole thing was timed, which meant that Olivia would be working on increasing her speed at the various components over the next week, when she was not in class or in the field.

There was a Scenario-Based exercise. She would be given a live-issue acted out, and would have to intervene without escalating the actors involved, while attempting to collect as much information, and if possible, find a resolution.

Then, of course their was the timed mile.

Olivia grimaced into her book at the thought of it. At this point, running a mile was something she could do in her sleep. Even still, the idea of running any more after the last few months was starting to get old.

Finally, there were the verbal and written exams related to the remaining workshops that her company was participating in. One on community policing, another on warrants, and so on.

Olivia looked back at her manual, pensive, as she continued to read about Crisis Intervention. She shifted her weight slighly so that her feet were tucked under her, and pulled at the pencil that was tucked behind her ear to scibble a note in the margin, before reading on...

'A crisis can have physical or psychological effects. Usually significant and more widespread, the latter lacks the former's obvious signs, complicating diagnosis. Three factors define crisis: negative events, feelings of hopelessness, and unpredictable events. People who experience a crisis perceive it as a negative event that generates physical emotion, pain, or both. They also feel helpless, powerless, trapped, and a loss of control over their lives. Crisis events tend to occur suddenly and without warning, leaving little time to respond and resulting in trauma.'

'Just a little light reading.' Olivia mused sarcastically, as she continued on through the remainder of the paragraph.

1 hour Later

"Hey..." Rebecca offered, padding into the common space with socked feet. She pushed her unbrushed blond hair out of her face as she manouvered through the common room and took a seat in one of the chairs opposite Olivia. "What are you up to? It's fucking early."

"It's 8:30, Becca." Olivia smirked, but did not remove her eyes from what she was reading.

"Yah, like I said. Early." Rebecca jabbed, goodnaturely.

After a beat... "I'm reviwing these stats on failed crisis intervention incidents in the last 2 years. It's pretty interesting, actually."

"Studying?" Rebecca chucked lightly, taking care to pull her gray NYPD hoodie closed to stave of the chill she encountered as she sat in a space with infinitely more windows than her dorm. "You're more of a nerd than I am, Benson."

Olivia looked up then, a playful glint in her eyes... "Not possible. Not with all that therapy stuff you are always talking about."

"I believe the phrase you're looking for is psychology."

"Okay, Uber-Nerd."

"You up for a break in a minute... we could go get a coffee or something. I could use something not from the shitty cart in the Quad... I want an expresso."

"You mean, expensive italian coffee." Olivia balked. "That's basically like drinking cocaine. You'll be jacked all day."

Rebecca raised both of her arms above her head making the gesture of a rainbow with her hands. "All the better to study with." She sing-songed.

"Fine... if we are gonna spend money on something that is more than 50 cents, I'm going to get a Café au lait."

Rebecca rose from her seat, a look of triumph on her face. "Well la-de-da, look whose fancy now."

Olivia, shifed slightly, grabing at her books before they slid off her lap. "Let me go see if Rachel's up. She's a total coffee snob...practically wretches when she drinks what they have in the Cafeteria. She'll be pissed if she misses an opportunity to drink something other than the 'battery acid' that we have here." Olivia said, making air quotes with her free hand as she stood fully upright from her seat.

"Cool. Meet you downstairs in 10?" Rebecca offered.

"Sure."

"Holy mother-fucking christ on a cross." Rachel said, in a low satisfied tone. She grasped the warm ceramic cup with both hands and pulled it slightly away from her mouth. Having just taken her first sip of her Americano; she was having a moment. "I. Fucking. Love. Coffee."

"... do I need to leave you and the coffee alone for a minute?" Olivia said, amused.

Rachel gave Olivia the side eye. "Maybe." Half serious, as she shifted on the small cushioned bench seat on one side of the barista table.

Rebecca looked at Rachel with amusement. "Olivia said you really liked fancy coffee... I thought she was overexaggerating..."

"She wasn't." Rachel deadpanned, taking a healthy gulp from her cup before another satisfied smile stretched across her face. After a beat she added... "Great idea to come here. It's cute."

"Yeah, I like this spot..." Rebecca offered, before looking toward Olivia. "How's your fancy-ass coffee."

"Good." Olivia responded." Reminds me of the little shop near my old place at Sienna, "sans college poetry jam night, of course."

Rachel offered a light chuckle. "You fancy college girls... Some of us had to go to Bronx Community College, and Hudson nights."

"Meh..." Rebecca huffed, "College is College."

"Says the chick who went to NYU." Rachel balked.

Rebecca shook her head slightly as a soft grin passed her lips. "Graduating from college, any college... means little when it comes to actual smarts. A bachelors degree does not measure intelligence. It measures your ability to pass tests and turn things in on time." Rebecca offered, thoughtfully.

Olivia directed her gaze toward her coffee... "That is true in some respects, but college is important, socially speaking, even if it has not been about IQ for a while...it's um, more about status; social mobility. For those who can afford it, college becomes a sort of right of passage. A time to let go of your childhood and move into adulthood... assuming a person was not rushed into that experience due to some other life circumstance."

Olivia grimaced almost imperceptibly before allowing her face to become neutral again.

Olivia cleared her throat and continued, "For some people college serves as a means to shift into another social class, or get credentials to attain a higher paying career. For others it's about pursuing their passion, or learning something totally new. Think about all of us. A degree is not required to be an NYPD officer, and yet all three of us have a degree. Why, for better pay? Fast track to detective? Or, better yet, perhaps it's because we are women and we have to take an extra step to be taken seriously. To prove our worth in the system of law enforcement."

"Spoken like a true sociology major." Rebecca smirked.

"Olivia always goes deep, Becca; you gotta learn this." Rachel teased, taking the moment to toss a raw sugar packet at Olivia.

"My mother teaches at the college level. No other place to go but deep... anything less was unsatisfactory." Olivia smiled, sadly.

Rachel didn't notice the change in Olivia's mood, having taken another swig of her hot beverage. Rebecca on the other hand, noticed. Her brow knitting together as a result.

"It's real, though." Rachel added, pensively. "My mother said flat out... College was required. She said she wanted me to have a job that wasn't all hard labor, like her."

Rebecca looked Rachel up and down then, comically wide-eyed. "If that's the case, how did she feel about you becoming a cop?" She leaned forward on her elbows, hands propping up her chin, a look of deep interest on her face then. "I've never really thought about police work as a low labor sort of profession."

Rachel nodded, her gaze flitting to Rebecca's then. "I see your point. I don't know. When I told my mother that I decided to become a cop, she was kinda proud, I guess. Said perhaps I could make a difference. Help people. She felt, I don't know, that I would be respected... that made her happy." A soft smile flitted across Rachel's features. "What about you?"

"My parents have no preferences about what I do, really." Rebecca offered, mundanely.

Olivia shot Rebecca a confused look at the statement.

Rebecca caught it, and added with a flip of her hand. "What I mean to say is, they have always been supportive of my choices... never really weighing in unless I ask. I guess they figured when I told them that I was going to the Academy, that I felt passionate about it... so they have been nothing if not encouraging." She took a sip of her beverage as if to punctuate the end of her sentence.

"What about you, Olivia? How do your parents feel about the whole cop thing?" Rachel asked, smiling. Curious.

Olivia moved her drink to her lips quickly. She took a gulp of the warm liquid, regretting it as the feel of slightly over hot coffee slid down her throat.

She had not talked about her family at all to Rachel or Rebecca... she couldn't fault them for being curious... and they had no idea it was a touchy subject for her...

... Should she lie completely; give a vague answer. There was no way in hell she was telling specifics about her reasons for becoming a police officer, or why her mother hated the idea so much...christ.

After a beat, Olivia set her coffee down. Here it goes... "My mother was not really pleased by the whole thing." She offered, in a tone she tried to make sound as casual as possible. 'Play it off.' Olivia thought to herself.

"Why's that?" Rachel inquired, her tone more reserved.

"Like a said..." Olivia added "... She's a professor... so... I think she had hoped for a more academically-centered career, like her."

That wasn't really a lie... so Olivia felt like it was a solid response that allowed her to keep it clear, but not specific to the MAJOR reasons her mother hated the idea; i.e. the violence, the risk, the fact that the cops had never caught her mother's rapist... and so on and so forth.

Rachel nodded, satisfied with the response and took a massive gulp of her coffee, finishing the rest of it... "Well, become a kick ass cop and then teach at the academy... that should make your mom happy, right? Perfect balance of everyone's interests." She smirked, moving to stand, then, "I'm gonna get another. Want something?" She looked to both of them.

"Nah. I'm good." Olivia said, simply. Appreciative for the distraction.

"No thanks." Rebecca chimed in, though as she said it she looked at Olivia, her gaze concerned. Her eyes swept the brunette up and down quickly, assessing.

"Cool. Cool." Rachel said, turning to walk toward the counter, oblivious to Rebecca's scrutiny, or Olivia's change in mood.

Once Rachel was out of ear shot Rebecca leaned in close. "There's more to it than your mom wanting you to be a professor, isn't there."

'Ugh'... Olivia thought, but turned to Rebecca, mirroring her posture. Her words hushed, but still polite. "There's more to most things." She offered, lightly.

At that, Rebecca's softer expression took on a more serious quality. "It might make you feel better to talk about it." Her tone, one of attempted empathy. "Sounds like your relationship with you mom is kinda tricky."

"Some people have complicated relationships with their parents" Olivia responded.

"I don't. My parents are about as uncomplicated as it gets. They are old, boring, middle class wasps." Rebecca joked.

"Well.. good for you... I appreciate the offer, but I'm good, Doctor Hendrix." Olivia responded, a slight sarcasm lacing the word doctor. She got what the woman was trying to do... but Olivia was not interested in sharing some tragic backstory or having a cry session with someone who would soon be a colleague... let alone someone so intent and interested in unpacking people's every neuroses. It made Olivia feel like she was being studied. Fuck no.

"That's textbook deflection." The woman responded, any quality of empathy in her words now waning. She smirked.

Olivia leveled her gaze at Rebecca then, her tone flattening as she stated her next words. "I don't need to 'talk anything out' with anyone. Especially not you. Respect my privacy, please."

Rebecca nodded again, leaning back in her seat and looking forward to the counter, where Rachel was flirting with a bearded barista. "Sure thing, Olivia." She nodded at Rachel with a clearly fake smile as she watch their friend point out their table and then resume chatting with the man at the counter. "However..." Rebecca continued, punctuating her words, "Clearly something is going on... with your mom... and you should talk to someone. If you can't talk about your own shit Olivia... how do you think you are going to stay mentally fit to do this work."

Olivia's face remained stoic, save her her glaze... her eyes took on a glassy quality. She blinked, quickly. Turning her body toward their friend at the counter, much like Rebecca. "I get what you are trying to do... and perhaps I could even appreciate the sentiment... but I'm not about to take advice on doing the job from someone who clearly sees being a cop as a stepping stone to something else."

"Touché, Benson." Rebecca conceded.

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this long over do update.

Much appreciation.

- Crackerjack