Summary: After returning from Oregon and struggling with her partnership with Elliot, Olivia takes a mandated vacation to Jamaica. She returns a week later only to be told her plane has been missing for ten years. Olivia has not aged more than a week, yet Elliot and everyone she knows is now a decade older. She now has to face a new life, a new job - and the man who has just spent a decade grieving her loss.
Fandoms: This is based on the plot of 'Manifest' the TV show however only characters from L&O SVU have been used so technically it's not a crossover. Certain details have been changed (eg the length of time the plane went missing and the gifts Olivia will experience in the aftermath).
Set: Season 8. E/O.
Beta Gratitude: JessR, thank you for helping me fix the errors of my ways! Could I love you more? I think not.
Other: There is a 99% chance this will never be finished lol.
Olivia pulls her long, straightened hair into a ponytail, sweeping her fringe to the side as she inspects her reflection in the two-way mirror. She has dark circles from the plane ride and she is beyond frustrated. She had just endured a four hour plane ride that turned into eight due to turbulence and delays, only to end up in some makeshift airport interrogation room for hours on end.
She cups her hands against the glass, peering through the mirrored screen before the door to her left opens up abruptly.
She had to be at work in under seven hours and she was only a cab ride away from being tucked up under her covers.
She had officially lost her patience.
"Finally," she sighs under her breath. "Can you please tell me what exactly seems to be the problem? Our flight landed over six hours ago, it's now bordering on midnight."
A detective twice her age walks in with a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a newspaper and a remote control in the other. He slowly takes a seat in front of her and places the items down on the table. A few beats pass as he eyes her, taking a sip of his hot coffee before he places the styrofoam cup down.
"The problem Detective Benson," he begins. "Is that your plane departed Montego Bay, Jamaica on April 17, 2006," he pauses. "And today is May 4th, 2016."
She hears the conflicting dates reverberate in her mind, but no part of it computes.
Clearly she must have heard wrong.
"I'm sorry.. what?" she smiles.
"I know this is going to be hard to believe, but you've been missing - presumed dead, for just over a decade."
It was the exhaustion.
It had to be.
She was tired, clammy, jet-lagged and in dire need of a shower.
Maybe there was a leak on the plane and she was hallucinating from gas fumes.
She blinks back at him in waiting, watching as he pulls a foriegn device out of his pocket and slowly slides it towards her.
She looks down at the large black rectangular block.
"This is a cell phone…" he explains. "An iPhone to be exact. The first one was released in 2007, so I suspect you've never seen one of these before."
She takes a step forward, having no idea what the hell he was talking about. She eyes the large contraption before she picks it up, and the first thing she sees is the date flashing back at her.
May 4, 2016.
She places it down with a heavy clank before nervously scratching her temple.
"You're messing with me," she mutters.
He lets out a sigh as if he'd expected this reaction, then slides the newspaper towards her, almost as if on cue.
"This is no belated April fool's, Detective," he tells her, motioning towards the paper. "Newspapers are pretty redundant these days, with online news feeds and all, but they still print them. I bought this one today from the arrivals terminal."
He motions towards the date in bold for emphasis.
May 4, 2016.
But it's the headline that captures her attention.
CRUZ ENDS PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN AFTER TRUMP WINS INDIANA PRIMARY.
Her eyes flit up to his.
"Trump for president?" she scoffs. "Really?"
She still isn't buying a word of this.
"I get it," he whispers up to her. "You don't think I realize how ridiculous this all sounds? You're the twenty-third person I've had to explain this to tonight, and each and everyone of you had that same look on their face."
He motions towards the TV screen, waiting for her to look up before he switches it on.
She catches the date scrolling across the bottom of the NBC news report in red and white.
May 4th, 2016.
A few moments of silence pass before she reaches for her own phone, tugging the silver device from her back pocket and flipping it open.
She stares at the no service bar blinking back at her.
"If I've really been gone for ten years, then how does this still have battery?"
"Time, it would seem, didn't pass on the plane for the passengers," he leans across the steel table. "Just for the rest of the world."
She is dead silent now.
She cannot think of one logical reason that the New York Police Department would waste their tax dollars cornering off a plane load of people just for a laugh.
This was no hidden camera show.
"Do you have someone you can call?" he says up to her paling face. "For your safety, we can't let you leave JFK without someone signing you out of the terminal."
She blinks back at him slowly, unmoving, until he finally slides his iPhone towards her.
"Your phone plan would have long since expired," he tells her. "Use this."
Then he is gone.
Her heart hammers in her chest as she holds the iPhone in her hand. It had taken her a good while to figure out where the keypad even was. Now she was shakily pinning in Elliot's number as she reads it from her flip phone.
If ten years really had passed, she had no idea if this would even still be his number.
The phone begins to ring and she presses her lips together, a nervousness starting to overtake with each ring.
The last time they had spoken it had ended in a fight, she still recalls the altercation like it was last week.
Because it was.
She hears the other end click over, followed by a heavy breath.
"Stabler."
She presses her eyes closed.
Thank God.
He's still alive.
She goes to speak but she holds back, suddenly rendered still, she can't for the life of her form words. She needs him to tell her this isn't real, that she must be tripping - she prays that he laughs when she recounts what the Detective just told her. She expects him to tell her that he'd just seen her last week.
A few moments of silence pass and all she can hear is his labored breathing.
"Hello?"
"El," she whispers, her voice timid, her palms increasingly clammy.
She hears the sharp intake of breath and she can tell immediately.
He's in a state of shock.
Her eyes dart up to the two-way mirror, wondering if she was being watched while she makes this call. She runs a hand over her face, because she can almost hear the pain and disbelief in each breath he is taking.
His silence is all the confirmation she needs.
"Elliot," she whispers once more, this time more desperate, the heavy phone nearly slipping from her palm.
A few beats pass until she finally hears him exhale, his voice jagged and emotional when he says it.
"Where are you?"
TBC