If you aren't familiar with how I typically write EO, this is intended to throw you in at the deep end and all click into place by the end. Stick with me and it will all come together, promise.
Inspired by a tweet I saw this week about how Olivia Benson should have been a girl mom. I physically cannot get on board with Noah, and it's stopped me writing literally hundreds of stories I've wanted to over the years. So this is a bit of an experiment, to see if this could be a solution. And if it doesn't work we can pretend it never happened.
I have another two parts to this story planned that I will write if anyone wants them.
Comments always appreciated!
IseultLaBelle x
I'm on twitter under the same username :)
This story does contain some discussion of disordered eating and body dysmorphia, because writing is therapeutic lol. So please do take care if those are things you might find triggering.
September, 2026
"You're sure you're going to be alright?"
His voice is laced with far greater a degree of panic than he ever intended, and he fails to catch himself until it's already too late.
She scoffs, and Elliot can picture her so clearly, rolling her eyes, feigning an exaggerated degree of exasperation and the rest of it she doesn't have to, entirely genuine, can't stand it when he lurches into protective mode and she feels it's completely unnecessary.
"I'll be fine," she tells him firmly. "It's fine, El. It's fine. We've got no reason to think…"
"He threatened…"
"Rollins," she intercepts him. "Not me. He barely even met me, when we had him in custody. It's… different… to…"
"What did the perp threaten to do to Auntie Amanda?" a small voice asks faintly, and Elliot pinches the bridge of his nose, curses himself. "Mom?"
"Oh, thanks, El," Olivia sighs. "Thanks a lot. It's nothing you need to worry about, honey," she promises, voice softens, adopts the gentle, soothing tone she'd perfected decades before fate finally made her a mother. "We're just being a little over-cautious at work, okay? Just to be on the safe side…"
"But what…"
"Someone we brought in for questioning this afternoon wasn't very happy about it, that's all. Said some things to Auntie Amanda that he probably didn't mean, but we're sending her home with someone who can look after her, just in…"
"A protective detail?"
"You've spent far too much time in my office lately. Yes, a protective detail. So Auntie Amanda's going to be just fine, okay? There's nothing to worry about. There probably wasn't anything to worry about anyway, but we're going to make absolutely sure…"
"So what happened to you can't happen to her?"
"… Yeah. Exactly."
Even over the phone, Elliot can hear her shudder.
"Sorry," he apologises. "Sorry, Liv. I didn't… I didn't realise you had me on speaker…"
"I told you I was driving…"
"I know… it didn't click…"
"Why didn't you want Uncle Elliot to say that on speaker…"
"Because this is work stuff," Olivia explains wearily. "And you're twelve. I told you Uncle Elliot would be calling about work…"
"Oh, you told her that, did you? It would have helped if you'd told me you had her in the car…"
"Goddammit, Elliot," Olivia curses. "You knew I was going to go get her when I clocked off, even you could have worked that one out…"
"Sorry. Hi, Lollie," he greets her twelve-year-old, just a little sheepish. "Ignore me. Just worrying over nothing, that's all. You know me…"
"Are you sure…"
"I'm sure, honey," he promises. "I'm sure. Your mom knows how to handle herself, alright? I trust her judgement, really. Promise. I just like to… I don't know. Just like to remind her that I worry every now and then, that's all. How was school?"
"School was good."
"Just good? That all I'm getting."
"Yeah."
"You're not going all moody teenager on me early, are you? Because I still get enough of that from Eli…"
"No…"
"She's upset because she didn't get the part she wanted in her dance team's… I don't know, what do you call it? She wanted a specific part in one of the competition routines," Olivia explains. "And she didn't get it. And she's convinced herself it's because… her dad… keeps pulling her out of competitions on his weekends. So she's just a bit upset. But I've just forked out an obscene amount of money for her to have an extra solo this year, so I'm sure she'll get over it…"
"How many's that make now?"
"Three," Lollie answers, suddenly enthused. "One lyrical, one jazz, one open."
"What's open mean?"
"Like, doesn't fall into a clear category," she explains. "Or speciality dances. Like, with a theme. I'm going to have a barrel shroud, and I'm going to be Alicia from…"
"Alycia Debnam-Carey's going to have a restraining order taken out against you at this rate."
"No, she's not. Some of her fans are really crazy though. I think her manager had to…"
"I know," Elliot agrees. "I know. Your mom did the paperwork. Some of it, anyway…"
"What?"
"Oh thanks, El. It's not as exciting as it sounds, Pia. I just did some paperwork, that's all…"
"Did you get to meet her?"
"No, I didn't get to meet her. Not even close. And it was a long time ago."
"Oh."
"See? I told you it wasn't as exciting as it sounds. We're going to go, El," Olivia tells him. "I'll call you when we're back safely, alright? Once I've worked out what I'm feeding her tonight, anyway…"
"Are you still doing that diet thing?" Lollie sighs protectively, and Elliot frowns, caught off-guard. "Mom…"
"What's this about a diet thing…"
"None of your business," Olivia shuts him down firmly. "I'll text you when we're home, let you know everything's…"
"You said you were going to call a moment ago…"
"Fine. Fine, I'll call," she surrenders, though it's clear her patience is running thin again, and Elliot curses himself for coming so far towards turning it around only to throw it all away again. "I'll call you later, okay? Bye, El."
"Bye, Liv."
Elliot leans back in his desk chair, fingers laced behind his head, waits for her to hang up.
Except the tell-tale click of the call disconnecting never comes.
There's silence, for a moment, just for a moment, and Elliot finds himself wondering if perhaps he missed it.
And then it comes.
"Taylor?" Lollie asks simply, one-worded question.
"Taylor," Olivia agrees. "You want to hook up your phone?"
"Sure. Are you choosing the album? Or am I?"
"Mashup?"
"You don't mean mashup. You mean put my mega playlist on shuffle."
"What can I say? I'm old…"
"You're not old."
"I'm going to be sixty next year…"
"Sixty's not old," Lollie insists quickly, just a little edgy. "Sixty's totally not old, Mom. Promise. My mega playlist is only on Uncle Elliot's Spotify…"
"Put that on, then. He can call if he wants to kick you off it."
"True."
He should hang up, Elliot tells himself.
He should hang up, right now.
His finger is hovering over the end call button when the line is flooded with electropop- or what he thinks he recognises as electropop after Eli's latest attempt to educate him, at least.
It really was.
He was going to hang up.
"So did you ask him?" Lollie asks playfully, and Elliot's protective instinct grinds him to an abrupt halt.
Ask who what?
"No," Olivia sighs, as though she's bracing herself for an onslaught, attempt to change her mind. "No, I didn't…"
"But you're going to, right?"
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes!"
"No!" Olivia protests. "No, I am not going to ask him, Penelope…"
"Why?"
"Because I've thought about it. And it's not fair on Auntie Kathy…"
Elliot's ears prick up.
"Why isn't it fair on Auntie Kathy?" Lollie challenges. "Uncle Elliot isn't invited, right? So it's not like he could take her…"
"It's still not fair on Auntie Kathy."
"Why?"
"Because… because it just isn't…"
"You're friends."
"Uncle Elliot and me, or Auntie Kathy and me?"
"Did you still not make up with Auntie Kathy?"
"I didn't fall out with Auntie Kathy, honey…"
"She wasn't happy, though."
"No, she wasn't," Olivia agrees, and Elliot tenses, punches mute before he's quite registered what he's done. That's why I'm not asking Uncle Elliot. Okay? We're going to keep our heads down for a while. I'm going to see if Auntie Phoebe can be on standby for you tomorrow night. So we don't have to bother Uncle Elliot and Auntie Kathy again…"
Elliot's hands curl into fists before he quite realises it's happened.
He makes a mental note to find a way to bring it up with Kathy later.
"She probably wouldn't mind you taking Uncle Elliot to the fundraiser dinner thing, though," Lollie argues. "That's work…"
"That doesn't really help the situation, honey. I don't think it does, anyway. She calls me his office wife as it is…"
"Sometimes it doesn't sound like she's joking."
"Exactly…"
"This is why we can't have nice things, darrrrlingggg," Lollie sings along absentmindedly. "Because you break them; I have to take them…"
"Can you hit shuffle, please."
"Why?"
"Touché."
"Ohhhhh."
"Quite."
"There's a Taylor song for every situation in life," says Lollie wisely. "Like, ever…"
"Well that's dangerous, then…"
"You should ask him, Mom," Lollie insists, as the music in the background switches to a soft instrumental. "Asking him wouldn't hurt anyone…"
"He'll say no."
"No, he won't."
"Yes, he will. And if he doesn't, I think that might be worse."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to cause problems for him and Auntie Kathy." Olivia sighs heavily, inhales, sharp, borderline panicked. "I shouldn't be telling you this. You have to promise you aren't going to tell Uncle Elliot and Auntie Kathy this…"
"Obviously."
"Penelope."
"I promise."
He should hang up.
He should have hung up before, admittedly, but he really, really should hang up right now.
He should hang up immediately and pretend he never heard any of this, erase it all from his mind and never allow it to cross his mind again, take himself off to confession at the next available opportunity…
Olivia and her daughter hum along to the track faintly.
"Do we have to have this one?"
"You already skipped one," Lollie points out. "And it's sad girl autumn."
"It's September."
"September counts as autumn."
"Not yet."
"Isn't September just a fancy word for fall?"
"It's British, I think. The British call fall autumn."
"Why did Taylor call this the sad girl autumn version, then? And not sad girl fall?"
"Because it sounds better, I guess."
"You should ask Uncle Elliot, Mom."
"Oh my god."
"You should!"
"Is that your response to sad girl autumn?"
"Maybe."
"I don't have to take a plus one, you know. It's not compulsory. I've been to plenty of these things by myself. Or I could take Uncle Brian…"
"No, you can't."
"You tell her, Lollie," Elliot mutters under his breath before he can help himself. "You tell her…"
"Why can't I take Uncle Brian?"
"Because he's still in love with you," says Lollie, so matter-of-factly that Elliot lets out an involuntary snort. "You can't give him false hope like that, Mom…"
"How old are you?"
"I know stuff."
"You know too much."
"Why did you dump Uncle Brian?"
"I didn't dump him!"
"You kind of did."
"You weren't old enough to remember."
"You did dump him, though."
"You know this story. He… he didn't want kids," Olivia covers. "He just… it wasn't that he didn't like you. He just didn't want to be a stepdad. He… he realised that after you were born. So it just wasn't going to work out, was it…"
"It was him or me."
"Yeah. So he was never going to win that one, was he? No one was. No one ever is."
"I love you too."
"I love you more."
He's never heard them do this before, but it sounds so natural, so easy, such familiar territory to them, that Elliot can't help but smile.
"I love you more." Lollie insists. "I'd come with you."
"To my fundraiser thing?"
"Yeah."
"I know you would, honey. And I appreciate that. You're still a bit young, though…"
"I don't mind if it's boring."
"That's sweet. I don't think they'd let you in, though. I think you probably have to be eighteen."
"You still can't take Uncle Brian."
"Okay. Okay, fine. I won't ask Uncle Brian."
"We're singing in the car, getting lost upstate…"
"Pia."
"Autumn leaves falling down like… I'm listening. You aren't going to take Uncle Brian. Why are road trips upstate romantic?"
"Because Taylor says so."
"That's not an answer."
"I don't know. Just is. You'll get it when you're in high school."
"Is that where boys take you for dates in high school?"
"Why are you so obsessed with boys all of a sudden?"
"I'm not. But is that how you know they're serious about you?"
"Pia."
"What counts as upstate?"
"In New York?"
"Yeah."
"Pretty much anywhere New York State."
"Bear Mountain?"
"I don't know. I'd count that as upstate. I've lived in Manhattan my whole life, though, I don't know if that makes a difference… are you telling me Gleb's parents have invited you to…"
"No!"
He needs to find out who Gleb is, Elliot realises grimly. Fast…
"I'm not necessarily opposed to that…"
"Really?"
"Uh huh. As long as I can meet his parents first. Gleb seems nice…"
"Mom…"
"But I'd rather meet his parents before I let them take you anywhere, just to be…"
God, she's lucky she's not his daughter.
She's twelve, for Christ's sake.
She's twelve years old and her mother's captain of Manhattan SVU, absolute epitome of should know better that…
"Gleb hasn't invited me anywhere, Mom," Lollie insists, and Elliot breathes a sigh of relief, knows when she's lying.
"Okay. Maybe we should take a trip, though. I've got you for Thanksgiving break this year… I could take the week, we could book a cabin somewhere…"
"Upstate?"
"Yeah. Kaaterskill Falls is pretty in fall…"
"Where's that?"
"Yeah, I need to get you out of the city more, don't I? Couple hours upstate. Toward Albany. My boyfriend took me, my sophomore year of high school…"
"Burton?"
"Yeah."
There's tension in Olivia's voice, and so Elliot tenses, too.
"You're literally Taylor. See? There's a Taylor song for every occasion."
"Oh my god, Pia."
"What?"
"Stop."
"Stop what?"
"Stop."
"You're going to go even if you don't take a plus one, right?"
"You're not still on that, are you?"
"Mom."
"I've been to plenty of these things on my own, thank you. Never feel like you need a man to take you anywhere, honey. Okay? Or a woman. Or anyone. There's no shame in being single…"
"So you are going?"
"As long as I don't get called in to work a case last minute…"
"Mom…"
"What…"
"You have to go, Mom…"
"No, I don't…"
"They might give you an award…"
"Unlikely…"
"They might do, though…"
"They won't."
"You were nominated…"
Not as absentmindedly as perhaps he should, Elliot finds himself wondering what award she's been nominated for and why this is the first he's hearing of it.
"Doesn't mean I'm going to get it…"
"They're not going to give it to anyone else, Mom."
"You're sweet."
"What are you wearing?"
"Penelope."
"It's like, two weeks away. And I'm at Dad's this weekend, so…"
Elliot doesn't think he'll ever stop experiencing an overwhelming urge to put his fist through something every time he hears Lollie call that bastard 'Dad.'
"I don't know."
"You have that dark blue dress," Lollie suggests. "With the…"
"There's no way I'll fit into that right now."
"I think you wou-"
"Penelope, just trust me on this one," Olivia snaps. "Alright? Just trust me. Not an option. Not an option in two weeks' time, anyway. Maybe by Christmas. Hopefully by Christmas…"
"We could go shopping, and I'll help you choose?" Lollie suggests lightly, changes the subject like a pro- and there's more to this, Elliot realises grimly, far more beneath the surface of that exchange than he's privy to and he didn't even know it was there, and that worries him far, far more than it should.
Because she's…
He doesn't know how to articulate it without warranting another trip to confession.
But she's…
He hates that she might think that she isn't… that she's anything but…
"We're not going shopping."
"Why no-"
"Because it's too fucking depressing."
"Mom…"
"I'm not changing my mind, Penelope…"
"What are you wearing, then?"
"If I go…"
"If you go, yeah…"
"You know my black dress I wore to Auntie Amanda's party in…"
"You can't wear that to get an award, Mom."
"We don't know I'm getting an award."
"We kind of do."
"No, we don't…"
"Okay. But you can't wear it to a fancy fundraising evening either way…"
"Who made you the fashion police…"
"I'm just saying."
"Why can't I wear it to…"
"Because it's shapeless."
"That's why I want to wear it."
"You can have flattering without it being figure hugging…"
"Nothing's going to look flattering on me right now, believe me…"
"If I said that about me, you'd be telling me not to be so…"
"That's different."
"How?"
"Because…" Olivia trails off, breath catching in her throat and he shouldn't be listening to this, shouldn't be fucking listening to this and yet he feels as though he needs to listen to this, because he needs to say something, needs to boost her confidence or whatever he's supposed to call it, doesn't know, just feels an overwhelming urge to do something… "Because… I'm a lot older than you…"
"So you're okay with me being as self-deprecating as you are when I'm fifty-se-"
"Stop it."
"Do we need to put our anthem on?"
"Jax?"
"Yeah."
"Can we talk about something else. And can we please skip the rest of Sad Girl Autumn All Too Well before the bridge makes me cry…"
"Because of Burton? Or because you won't ask Uncle Elliot if he'll come with you to the fu-"
Elliot freezes.
"You know why."
"Okay," Lollie offers casually. "Okay. If you could only listen to one Taylor song for the rest of your life, what would you pick?"
"Right now?"
"Yeah, right now."
Olivia pauses for a moment, silent.
"Ivy," she offers at last.
"Do you need a hug?" Lollie asks softly.
"Not while I'm driving."
"You're not driving."
"This traffic will clear any moment now. I hope, anyway…"
"It's not normally tailed back this far after Monday dance."
"No, I know. Could be an RTC, I guess. I hope not…"
They fall into silence again.
"I'd meet you where the spirit meets the bones," Lollie sings along softly with the track change. "In a faith-forgotten land…"
"In from the snow…"
"Tiny bit flat, go up…"
"You know I can't sing."
"Yes you can. You almost had it…"
"I can't sing. I've known that since you were a baby, you used to…"
She trails off.
"Is that…"
"Get down into the footwell, Pia," Olivia says suddenly, and her voice is calm- wonderfully, soothingly calm- but Elliot knows her better. "Pia? Pia, take your seatbelt off, honey, get down into the footwell. Now…"
Elliot's blood runs cold.
"Mom…"
"I know, honey. I know, get down for me. Get down. There you go. I'm going to tilt the seat forward, okay? You stay down there. Whatever you hear, you stay down there. Take my radio, call it in for me, say it's a…"
"Mom don't get out…"
"I'm a cop, honey, I have to-"
"Mom…"
"NYPD!" Olivia shouts. "NYPD, drop your weapon!"
"Captain Benson?" a male voice demands, enraged. "You're Captain Benson, right? From Manhattan Sex Crimes?"
"Max? Max, I need you to drop your weapon, now…"
Max McAlister, Elliot realises, heart racing. Max McAlister, SVU's perp who threatened Rollins not two hours ago.
He's helpless.
He's on the other end of the phone but he doesn't know where they are, can't ask, can't send backup, fucking powerless…
"Not until you drop yours!"
"You know I can't do that, Max…"
"Throw your gun out the vehicle! Hands behind your head…"
"Max, I need you to put the gun d-"
"That bitch took away everything I…"
"And we can talk about this. Okay? Max? We can talk about all of it, I can help…"
"Stop pointing the fucking gun at…"
"I need you to put down your weapon first. Let me get out of the car, I can…"
"Last chance!" McAlister threatens. "Drop it, or I swear I'll…"
"Captain Benson's radio," Penelope whispers. "Ten-ten, F, Ams-"
"Drop your wea-"
The deafening sound of one of the weapons discharging fills the phone line.
Lollie screams.
Hell, half the street seems to scream.
"Captain Benson? Captain Benson, do you copy?"
Silence.
Screams, panic, cascading crowds and a decisive lack of fucking sirens, but nothing from either of his girls, nothing…
Fuck this.
"Liv?" Elliot calls urgently, flips the call off mute. "Liv? Lollie? Can you hear me? Liv? Lollie? Talk to me…"
"Oh, I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland," Taylor Swift sings mournfully. "My house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I'm covered in you."