Disclaimer: All I own is a shiny new eight-pack of Guinness. Seven pack. Six pack…

Note: Catnamedzane's suggestion.

Summary: Olivia dies. Over and over and over and…is a character death warning needed here, or can I just go with it like the show does?

Miss Piggy: Why are you telling me this?

Lady Holiday: It's plot exposition; it has to go somewhere.

Olivia peeked around the edge of the cold, gray building, gun drawn. Nothing moved in the street beyond – no people, no cars, no three-foot long sewer rats, nothing.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Especially for New York City in the middle of the afternoon.

She beckoned to her partner, who sidled up silently behind her. "Okay, Det. Elliot Stabler, it's all clear around the corner, so we're going to run up to the next alley and see if that's where our perp disappeared."

He glanced at her oddly before replying, "Whatever you say, Det. Olivia Benson."

"Is something bothering you?" she asked, reacting to the open hostility she perceived in his tone. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Uh, Liv, we're chasing an armed perp…"

"Well I know that. We are detectives with the NYPD Manhattan Special Victims Unit." She paused to holster her gun. It didn't seem proper to discuss emotional issues with a gun in hand. She continued, "I just thought that you might be feeling a little sad or enraged, or acting enraged to cover up the fact that you're sad. You wife left you and took your children away, so I totally understand why you might be having trouble focusing on work."

Elliot did his best not to point out the irony (or stupidity?) of her last statement, and instead moved ahead of his partner, walking cautiously toward the alley. After ascertaining that there was no one there, he called back to her, "It looks like our perp gave us the slip. I'm gonna call for backup to do a search of the area."

As he dialed his phone, Olivia said, "Yeah, you should call our Captain, Donald Cragen, and see if he can send Det. John Munch and Det. Odafin 'Fin' Tutuola to assist us in catching Robert Miller, our main suspect in the rape and murder of Shelly Miller, his wife."

Elliot tried to ignore his partner's annoyingly obvious monologue. He'd noticed that, every so often, she would get into moods where she just said everything that everybody already knew. It was aggravating, but not something he could legitimately complain about. As he hung up the phone, something moved in his peripheral vision.

It was almost unnecessary to turn around, since Olivia was narrating the events as they happened. "Our perp, Robert Miller has just rounded the corner and he has a gun aimed at us, Det. Olivia Benson and Det. Elliot Stabler. He's squeezing the trigger and a bullet is flying from the end of the barrel and…ow!"

Elliot found it strange to be glad that his partner had been shot, but it had shut her up. He fired his own weapon, but the perp ran away unharmed. Turning his attention back to Olivia, he tried to staunch the blood flow with pressure. "Elliot, I've…been shot. Blood pooling on pavement…consciousness hard to maintain…clothes stained. I'm…dying." She gave a few feeble wet coughs before expiring on the sidewalk…

And awakening with a start in the crib…