A/N: Again, thanks so much for the kind and lovely comments. They bring so much inspiration! I know these chapters are short, and that might change in the future when things get more… complicated. But I hope you appreciate the story either way.
…
CHAPTER 3
If she wasn't so worried about causing long term damage to her face, she might've smashed her head through this side window right now. It might've caused a mess, but at least the blood would cover up the blush that's quickly spreading from her chest and up her cheeks.
Think before you speak, Rollins. Is that really so hard?
Obviously it is, because now there's this awkward silence between them, forcing her to hold her breath as she waits for Olivia to say something. Anything.
And she has no one to blame but herself. Not after that.
"Who'd you have to sleep with to pull this off?"
She did mean it as a joke, and she did say it with a certain tone, but then came the scoff and the gaping mouth from the woman next to her and- Shit.
That's how you're gonna make her like you? Respect you?
It probably hasn't been more than five seconds, but it feels more like five days when she can't take it anymore, when she's about to apologize for (once again) crossing a line, for being rude, unprofessional-
But before she gets the chance, Olivia laughs.
Actually laughs. And not even in a cruel or mocking fashion. No, like she actually thought it was funny.
"Believe it or not, Rollins-" She says, reaching out to place a hand on Amanda's fleece covered shoulder, still chuckling. "I can be pretty persuasive without taking my clothes off."
"I didn't-" Amanda starts, stuck somewhere between confusion, relief and being absolutely mortified, and maybe, possibly, a little distracted by Olivia's hand, touching her like that.
"I know." The brunette says, eyes on the road, moving her hand away to wave her off. "You gotta punch harder than that if you want to insult me."
And for once, Amanda allows her stare to linger a little longer than she usually does, taking in the other woman's profile, realizing that still, after months of working together, there are so many sides of Olivia that she has yet to get to know.
Up until now, she's been given the ice queen treatment, the strictly business, no nonsense detective Benson. Turning on her charm when needed, and turning it off just as quickly. But now, in the span of just twelve hours, it's like she's been welcomed in to see something else. Something human.
And she has never been more intrigued.
She blinks and exhales, turning her head to look out the window, finding that the need to smash her head through it has somewhat dwindled.
The car ride is mostly silent after that, but at least it's not awkward anymore. Well, not awkward might be a stretch. There's still that teeny tiny detail of how she is obviously having wildly inappropriate thoughts and feelings about this woman sitting no more than two feet away.
There is that.
But if Amanda Rollins is capable of anything, compartmentalizing her feelings is definitely high on that list. So she breathes, ignores her thoughts, and focuses her attention on the case instead. At least for the time being.
…
"Did you by any chance get an ID, too?" She asks when it looks like they're getting closer to their final destination.
"You mean while I was busy riding some guy named Chad from the fire department?"
"Liv-" She groans, using one hand to hide her face and the flush that once again creeps up on her skin.
"Relax, I'm kidding." Olivia laughs, shooting Amanda a smile before it falters slowly. "I got it, but just a name and her age though. Can you look her up?" She asks, nodding towards the glove compartment. "Christine Baker, 36. And she lives- Or, lived-" She corrects herself while stopping the car. "Right here."
After glancing up at the apartment building they just parked next to, Amanda grabs the tablet, waiting a few seconds for the system to turn on before she types.
"Christine Baker, 36-" She says, repeating Olivia's words and adding the woman's address. "Found her."
She's not sure why, but she still feels this eerie stir in the pit of her stomach as she takes in the information given to her by the device in her lap.
"They're raping them." Christine had said, and now, as she takes in the words in front of her, she gets a sinking feeling of who their unknown, hypothetical victims might be.
"Liv-" Amanda mumbles, making Olivia lean in closer to look at the screen. "She was a prison guard." She says, pointing to the text that tells them Christine Baker, 36, has (had) been working as a correctional officer at Bayview for five years.
"Shit." She hears the brunette whisper, making her turn her head to look at her, their faces so close that she can feel the other woman's breath on her skin. And smell her perfume.
"Let's go." She says, shutting down her senses.
…
They climb the stairs quietly, almost somberly, and never one to ever shy away from grisly crime scenes, Amanda finds herself grateful that they're not about to encounter a dead body.
She doesn't know why, but there's just something about this case, if there even is one, that makes her skin crawl. Something's off, and her entire system knows it. And now, they might be one step closer to finding out what.
"Ok, Christine." Amanda mumbles when they finally reach the right apartment. "Help us out here."
"Ladies first-" Olivia says, gesturing for the blonde to enter, making Amanda duck her head, avoiding the other woman's eyes as she steps inside.
…
There's something particularly haunting about fire scenes. The way that some parts of a home have been completely destroyed, some just partially burned, and others not touched at all.
Like how Christine's kitchen looks like nothing happened in this apartment, like her life didn't end here twenty four hours ago. There are leftovers on the counter, probably left there to cool down before being put in the fridge. On a small magnetic whiteboard hangs invitations to coming events; a wedding in July and a baby shower in just a few weeks. Evidence of life, and love. Now gone, but still there.
Her living room, all though mostly covered in soot, shows a simple but seemingly comfortable life: Throw pillows and multiple blankets on what looks like a nice couch. Nothing fancy, just… nice.
"What?" Amanda asks when she notices how Olivia seems to linger over in a corner, the one where the remains of a lamp and a flat screen TV now stands.
"Nothing-" The brunette mumbles. "I have the same lamp."
She folds her arms and tilts her head then, eyes focused on how Olivia reaches towards the ruined lamp without actually touching it. "You do that too?"
"Do what?" The other woman asks, looking over her shoulder.
"Whenever we go to a scene-" Amanda says, folding her arms a little tighter. "If the victim is a woman, around my own age, I always seem to find something that we have in common." She continues as her words morph into a mumble. "Makes me think it could've been me."
"So, do you see anything in here that reminds her of you?"
"The couch." She answers, nodding towards the soot covered furniture. "Not the couch per se, but all the blankets. I love a good blanket."
"You still struggling to adjust to the long winters of New York?" Olivia asks, her tone mildly teasing.
"Nah, it's fine." Amanda shrugs, moving from the couch and over to what used to be a bookshelf, having no idea what she's looking for. "I welcome the change."
"You don't miss Georgia?"
A heavy feeling settles in her chest then, as flashes from a worn down motel room and the smell of cheap whiskey makes her freeze. "No." She mumbles, spinning around on her heels in an attempt to snap out of the unwanted memory, ignoring how the brunette studies her intently from across the room. "Let's check out the bedroom."
…
"Jesus." Olivia whispers, eyes moving from floor to ceiling. "How did she even make it to the hospital?"
I have no idea, Amanda wants to answer, but she stays silent instead, taking in their surroundings; A burned dresser, an equally burned bed, a chair, the remnants of clothes, the red brick wall now mostly black. All of it, so black, except, somehow, a mirror and a mostly untouched bedside table.
She tries, but finds herself helpless to stop the mental image of a burning body in the middle of this, praying that the autopsy report will bring them some comfort, that it will let them know that Christine, bless her soul, was unconscious for the most of it.
"Look, I'm obviously not a fire expert-" Amanda starts, glancing around the room again. "But based on what we're seeing, I'd say the fire started in here."
"Agreed." Olivia nods next to her, slowly making her way to the other side of the bed.
"And my gut is telling me this wasn't an accident." The blonde continues, kneeling down to carefully pick at some unidentifiable object on the floor, only then noticing how her gray sweatpants have taken on multiple dark stains. As if burned herself, she quickly rubs her hands against the fabric, only making matters worse.
"I think you're right." The other woman mumbles, making Amanda look up from her ruined pants and over to where Olivia is now standing by the window, holding what looks like an unfolded notebook in her hands.
"Hm?"
But in lieu of an actual answer, Olivia's only response is a whispered "shit" as she keeps reading, forcing Amanda to move closer.
"What?" She asks impatiently.
"Read." Olivia instructs, turning the book around and holding it out for Amanda to grab.
It takes her brain a moment to register the words, to understand what she's actually looking at, but when she finally does, the only sound in the room is her own breath, hitching.
"What the actual f-"
She never finishes the curse, but flinches instead as Olivia's phone goes off in her back pocket.
"We need to leave." Olivia says, reclaiming the notebook before Amanda can protest. "My guy is getting nervous."
And with that, the brunette moves, notebook still in hand, giving Amanda no choice but to follow her out of this hellscape that used to be a home.
…
The fresh air outside feels like an instant relief and she finds herself inhaling deeply as soon as they step out on the landing, sharing a quick glance with Olivia before they move towards the car.
Once inside, the brunette hands her the journal again, mumbling a quiet "hold onto this" as she dials a number and puts the phone on speaker.
"You can breathe now-" She says. "We're leaving."
"We?" Comes the immediate response, a male voice on the other end sounding both uneasy and annoyed.
"Relax-" Olivia continues, turning to look at Amanda, pausing a second when their eyes meet. "I trust her."
It's just three words. Not something that should make Amanda feel anything at all, but she still does. She feels it in her chest, and her stomach, and as much as she wants to just sit there and play it cool, she still feels herself smile a crooked smile, before she shyly looks down on the book she's still cradling.
"You owe me one." The man says then, making Olivia smirk and mumble a quick "I hear ya" before ending the call.
"Do you think he was talking about a blow job or something else because it's been a really long day-" The brunette jokes while reaching for her seatbelt, her smirk turning into a full blown grin when she catches the other woman's reaction; Eyes wide, mouth open.
"You're never gonna let me forget that one, are you?" Amanda groans, shaking her head while stifling a laugh.
"Nope." Olivia chuckles as she starts the car.
It's not that she has forgotten about the stolen piece of evidence in her lap, because clearly, even after just catching a glimpse of it, that's exactly what it is; Both evidence, and very much stolen. But playful banter, even if it's at her own expense, is a hell of a lot more fun than the inevitable part that comes next.
That part about responsibilities, and breaking the rules.
"Listen-" She starts, her fingers slowly and gently rubbing against the black leather. "Technically, I was the one who wanted to continue the investigation after we talked to Cragen. I'll take the blame for this." She nods while talking, as if she has already accepted her fate in the captain's office.
"No, you will not." Olivia protests, leaving no room for discussion. "And honestly?" She casts a glance towards Amanda's lap. "If this is what I think it is, Cragen won't care that we defied his orders."
"So he won't be pissed?" The blonde asks, brows raised.
"Oh, he'll be pissed." Olivia responds dryly. "And he'll probably yell, too. But he'll also admit there's a case."
…
"So-" Amanda says when the woman next to her stops the car outside her building twenty minutes later. "We should bring this in tomorrow morning."
Eyes landing on the notebook again, Olivia nods. "We should."
"Or…" Amanda mumbles, dragging the word out while tapping the leather.
"Or?"
She chews on her lip then, pausing a few seconds before she decides to speak her mind. "We could go through it tonight."
For a moment, it's impossible to read the other woman's face. She stays motionless in her seat, her body unmoving. But then, finally-
"Fuck it."
"Yeah?" Amanda responds, trying to act like the thought of them spending this kind of time together doesn't make her feel anything at all. "I'd have to walk Frannie first-" She adds quickly. "She pees on my bed sometimes."
When all she gets in return is a deadpan expression and a pair of questioning eyes, she quickly cracks a smile. "Frannie's my dog." She says, still smiling when realization spreads across Olivia's face.
"Was about to say that your girlfriend sounds really high maintenance." The brunette mumbles as she unbuckles her seatbelt.
"I've had my fair share of bad dates-" Amanda says while unbuckling hers. "But no one has peed the bed, yet."
"Well-" Olivia responds, adding a sigh. "The night is still young."