Disclaimer: Unfortunately, neither of us is Dick Wolf. But hot diggity damn, do we wish we were.
A/N: Cowritten with Mikaia. Olivia will seem OOC, but believe us, there's a reason. And it's totally intentional. Please R&R. We can only continue writing if we have the input of our readers. Constructive comments are appreciated, and we certainly are not strongly opposed to praise. :D Enjoy!
"Hey Liv, you okay? You don't look too good."
"Wha- Oh, no, I'm okay."
"You sure?"
"I'm fine," Olivia insisted, rubbing her aching head. Her partner was looking at her with concern. "Just too little sleep, you know how it is."
"Right…" He didn't look convinced.
"I'm fine. Come on, we have work to do." In reality, she was far from fine. In reality, she was exhausted -more so than usual- and her head pounded relentlessly. She stood, only to find herself seated again, Elliot gripping her elbow to steady her.
"You're not okay, why don't you go home. You want me to drive you?"
"I said I'm fine." Detective Benson shook off her partner, his grip and his concern.
The phone rang.
"Yeah?"
"Olivia?" said a raspy tenor she didn't recognize. "Hey, it's me."
What the hell…? Olivia wondered. Is this some old friend I'm supposed to remember? Stalling, she said, "Oh, hi! How've you been?"
"Pretty good. I've missed you."
Huh? The voice was sounding vaguely familiar.
"When can I see you again?" the man continued.
Just as she was becoming more confused than ever, Olivia suddenly remembered.
It had been a trying day. Another trying day. Detective Benson sipped the beer in her hand.
"Hey, can I buy you another drink?" a forgettable-looking man propositioned.
"Thanks, I'm good." Olivia replied, turning away. She could predict exactly how it would have played out. The same way it always did. They would be having a good time, until the inevitable question arose. "So, what do you do for a living?" That was where it ended, where it always ended.
"Can I get another?" The bartender filled her glass. Olivia's thoughts returned to what could laughably be called her "love life." The last failed date had taken place a few months ago. Recently she hadn't tried; she'd been too involved in work and, she realized now, had given up. "Another beer." After this she would go home, home to an empty apartment. The thought of going home again, alone, suddenly became unbearable.
Finishing her drink, she gazed around the bar for the man from before. Finding his forgettable face, she started over.
Olivia was horrified. How could she have forgotten what had happened? Had she had that much to drink? She didn't remember waking up with the guy. Just the excruciating headache that had followed.
"I know it's been a few weeks," the man continued. God, did she even know his name? "I'm so sorry; I was on a business trip. That's why I couldn't stay the night. When did you say I could see you again?"
"I'm sorry, they're paging me. I've got to go to work."
"Wait—what do you do for a living?"
Olivia hung up.
She just wanted to forget that this had ever happened. She'd just never talk to this guy again, block everything from her memory. He would have been gone anyway once he knew about her job.
A feeling of shame swept over Olivia. It had been a long time since she'd done something this reckless and irresponsible. Don't think about it anymore. It's over, and it's not gonna happen again. I'll just go to bed; things always look better in the morning.
The next morning, the outlook had not improved from Olivia's point of view over the toilet in the squadroom, where she was heaving up the contents of her stomach. Groaning, she staggered to her feet, moved over to the sink, rinsed her mouth and washed her face, which looked ashen in the mirror. Turning, her stomach lurching, she pushed open the restroom door and stepped out into the main section of the Special Victims Unit squadroom.
"Benson, in my office now!" Captain Cragen barked. Woozily, Detective Benson made her way into Cragen's office.
"What's up?"
"You need to take some time off. You can't work this hard, non-stop, without it taking its toll."
"I don't need…" To Olivia's surprise and Cragen's utter astonishment, she was stifling tears. Cragen's mouth opened, as if he was about to say something, but just stopped halfway. He stared, agape.
Gaining composure, Cragen offered his detective a seat and a box of tissues.
"I'm sorry," Olivia sobbed, "I don't know what's wrong with me." Seeing the usually tough detective in such a vulnerable state was shocking. Olivia was one of the guys, and seeing her blubbering in his office was no different from seeing one of her male counterparts doing the same.
Olivia regained control of herself. Cragen leaned forward and said, very gently, "Is something bothering you?"
"No! I think I've just been working too hard," Olivia said, trying to make herself believe it. "You're right; I need some time off."
Cragen put his hand on her shoulder. "Go home, Olivia."
On her way out, Elliot stopped her. "Where are you going?"
"Home. I'm taking some time off."
"That's probably best. Go home, rest. You'll feel better." Olivia nodded. Trying to take a step, her head spun and she staggered dizzily, inwardly cursing at this show of weakness in front of her partner, who had caught her elbow again.
"Something's up. Tell me what's going on."
"It's just overwork. I told you before, I'm fine. I just need some rest."
"I'm driving you home. Don't argue."
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