Transfer List: Loudoun
This is the first story in my Law & Order: SVU series "Full Complement." Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
April 4th
SVU Squad Room
Do I really want a cup of that sludge?
Olivia stared at the black liquid at the bottom of the coffeepot. Casey, she knew, would pour and drink without thinking twice. Elliot would say something sharp to the room at-large then toss the dregs and make more. John would leave the sludge to solidify while he made himself a mug of tea and Fin wouldn’t notice if tadpoles swam in the pot since he drank cola in the afternoon, even in winter.
And the Captain would stand by the pot until one of us jumped up and made a fresh pot. Rank does have its privileges.
She picked up a clean mug and shifted her concentration to it.
I wonder what Donna would do? Would she pitch in or be selfish?
It wasn’t a moot question. Thanks to a short conversation earlier that afternoon, Olivia had reason to carefully weigh the matter.
Courthouse, outside Part 15
Earlier on April 4th
Olivia sat on the bench facing the court’s door, waiting to be called. The Simkins case was a slam-dunk-the perp had both the knife used in the assault and the vic’s underwear hidden in his truck’s tool box-but there was no telling what a jury would do. Casey had prepped her the evening before; now, she waited her turn to testify. In Olivia’s case, waiting meant pacing the hall, stopping each pass before the courtroom’s door to glare at the lack of a bailiff calling her name.
“Benson? Olivia Benson? Is that you?”
Olivia spun on her heel, but that pesky bailiff still wasn’t at the door. She then turned left where a woman her age and height was watching her from a long bench.
The woman stood and crossed to her.
“You probably don’t remember me-Donna Loudoun. We attended the Academy together.”
It took a moment before Olivia recollected the name. Donna Jo Loudoun had been a skinny girl with long curly blonde hair and a thick West Virginian accent who did okay on the classroom work and excelled in the firearms and physical training exercises. Olivia shared a few lunch breaks and after-class beers with her and some other female cadets, but the two had not been anything close to friends. After graduation, Donna had been assigned to Staten Island and Olivia had not stayed in touch.
The woman now standing before Olivia did not match the Donna of memory. Height was the same, but the hair was now short, brown, and expensively styled. Her pants suit and blouse hadn’t come from the Sears catalogue and her hands had lost the calluses from milking an entire dairy herd twice daily and now sported an excellent set of French nails.
“Wow, Donna-you look like you grew up in Westchester. If you hadn’t said your name, I wouldn’t have recognized you.”
Donna’s laugh was a low, throaty chuckle. “I’ll take that as a compliment. It took a lot of effort, but I finally left Walnut Grove behind me. Now, it takes a linguist to tell I wasn’t born in the Empire State.”
“Why the change?” Olivia asked.
Donna nodded. “I was Narcotics. My lieutenant suggested that I broaden my horizons, so I did. I can go undercover as a suburban housewife desperate for Oxycodin, or a Wall Street analyst dealing coke to my cube mates, or backslide and be a small-town hick with a meth lab hid near my daddy’s still. The versatility made me valuable.”
“But you’re no longer Narcotics?”
Donna frowned. “I got burned on a couple of assignments. Since I was useless as an operative, I transferred to Special Frauds last year. It kept me alive, but it’s boring. I’d rather play at being an analyst than actually spend my time shuffling papers.”
Olivia laughed. “If you ever find an assignment that doesn’t shuffle papers, let me know-I’ll put my transfer in so fast, I’ll start yesterday.”
Donna didn’t join in her amusement. “I’m not talking about the usual reports. I hate reading financials, collating tax forms, comparing this account statement with that account statement. I’d rather have your job.”
“My job?”
“Yes. You want to make your Academy classmate happy, you get me into SVU. I can’t take the inaction-I need excitement.”
“Detective Olivia Benson!”
Olivia turned toward Part 15, where the bailiff she wanted so badly ten minutes before was now calling her name.
“Damn, Donna. We need to talk about this, but I got to go.”
Donna patted her arm. “Go testify. I’ll call you. We’ll have lunch and plan how to get me out of Frauds.”
With that, Donna strode away, her heels sharp and quick on the marble floor.
SVU Squad Room
April 4th
I should have said something, told Donna this job wasn’t all excitement and fun. Besides, I can’t guarantee anything; I just work here. Best I can do is tell Cragen about her and let him decide what do to.
Olivia stared at the mug in her hand.
Do I want to do that?
“You’re standing between me and the hot water.”
She looked over her shoulder. There stood Munch, a figure in black relieved only by the thin blue pattern in his tie and the leather of his shoulder holster. His hands cupped a ceramic mug while he peered at her over his tinted lenses.
Olivia took the hint and stepped sideways. “I’d rather stand between a mother bear and her cub than between you and your afternoon tea.”
Munch moved forward and selected a tea bag, soaking it in hot water from the coffee urn.
“Smart choice, Olivia. I’m much more dangerous than a she-bear; she isn’t armed.”
“Gun battles over tea,” she said, her tone lighter than his. “What would IAD think of us?”
Munch twisted his head to look at her, his smile small but genuine. “The SVU Tea Party,” he answered, “thrown to protest people who block the coffeepot while thinking. What had you so deep in thought?”
Olivia began to make a fresh pot of coffee. “I met someone I knew at the academy. She wants me to recommend her to Cragen.”
Munch turned his gaze from her to the corner made by the back wall and stairway.
“I wouldn’t wish this job on anyone.”
Olivia poured new grounds into the filter.
“Yeah, but we sure could use the extra bodies. As much as I like overtime….”
Munch interrupted “-it would be nice to see the inside of your eyelids once in a while?”
“You got it.”
She finished assembling the new pot of coffee and turned to face him. “So, given your experience and expertise….”
Munch snorted.
“Okay, I’ll skip the soft soap. Donna’s a good cop, but not a people person. She’s got undercover experience, but she might be a glory hound. Do I recommend her to the Captain or do I pretend I did and hope she’ll never learn I didn’t?”
Olivia watched his face as Munch considered her question. First, he pursed his lips, then flattened them against his teeth. His gaze shifted from her face back to the corner under the stairs, where it remained for several seconds. He then nodded once and returned his attention to her.
“Any detective transferred here will be a good detective-Cragen and the brass make certain of that. Take a step to your right and face your desk, please.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it.”
Olivia complied. Munch then turned to face her, leaving her cornered by him, the refrigerator, and the coffeepot.
“Now, stand on one foot.”
She chuckled at the odd request. “Does it matter which foot?”
He pointed a finger at her feet. “Eeney, meeney-how about the right one?”
She bent her right knee, raising her foot behind her.
“Now, picture yourself standing on the point of a pin.”
Olivia put her foot down. “C’mon, John. Angels dance on the heads of pins, not the points.”
“Angels are smarter than we are.”
With the hand not holding his mug, Munch waved her foot back up. Olivia realized that, although his eyes were looking at her, he didn’t seem to see her. Whatever he was trying to convey, it required all his attention.
Okay, John-let’s see what kind of game you’re running on me.
She raised her foot again. Munch resumed speaking.
“Imagine this-you, like every other SVU detective, are standing on the point of a pin suspended over an unfathomable abyss. We can’t see what the abyss contains, but we know that we dare not fall into it. Our pins are not comfortable places-in fact, they’re damned painful, but that is where we have to stand in order to do our jobs.
“While we’re on the job, we must withstand many forces, all trying to disturb our balance, to force us off our pints and into the abyss. There’s the desires of our families and friends….”
He reached out and laid his fingertips on her forehead, a move that barely disturbed her balance. Olivia shifted on her left foot in reaction to the slight pressure.
“There’s the requirements of the job….”
Munch placed his hand on her right collarbone and pushed her backward.
“There’s the needs of the victims….”
A harder push on her right shoulder shoved her sideways; Olivia twisted away to keep her balance. Before she had recovered, he spoke again.
“And the rights of the perps….”
The same slam, but on her left shoulder.
“Your own need for sleep, food, a life of your own…”
A hard shove to her sternum.
“…and the needs and demands of your partner and coworkers….”
A palm pushed against her chin, sharp and hard. Her head snapped back and she threw up her left hand to keep from toppling.
“All these forces strive to push you off-balance, to drive you into the abyss. Only two things keep you from falling-your ability to do this job….”
He shoved her hard, first left, then right. Olivia struggled to stay upright under the onslaught.
“…and the help of your fellow detectives from their own pinpoints.”
He clasped her wrist and steadied her until she regained her balance. His lenses had cleared but his eyes were dark, unreadable, as though they mirrored the abyss he had just described. Olivia felt the conflict between their scariness and the gentle warmth around her wrist and wondered why people ignored John to worry about her partner’s stability.
Then Munch shifted his focus from wherever it had been back to her.
“It’s that balance that matters, Olivia. If your friend can stay on her pin and spare some balance for others when they wobble, then recommend her. Otherwise, she’s better off anywhere else but here.”
He tipped his head toward her, nothing but concern evident on his face.
“Understand?”
She nodded, uncertain that she did but unwilling to face another demonstration.
He smiled. “Glad to be of help.”
He turned, mug still clasped in his hand. Olivia watched without moving until he had returned to his desk, then she shifted her feet. The unevenness of the floor below the ball of her left foot felt as though it might be the point of a pin.
It’s like I just had a fast trip through the Twilight Zone. Hell, maybe I did-Rod Serling and Munch both dress alike.
“You okay?”
She looked up. Elliot was leaning over the railing above her, his tie loose about his neck and his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows.
“What the hell was Munch doing to you?”
Olivia shrugged, not willing to try an explanation.
“I asked him a question. That was his answer-I think he’d call it ‘an object lesson.’’”
She turned her attention to Munch, who leaned back in his chair, newspaper in hand, reading as though nothing strange had happened.
“John thinks too much,” she said, “and what he thinks about is really weird.”
“When you look into an abyss,” Elliot responded, “the abyss also looks at you.”
Olivia snapped her gaze back to her partner. “What was that about an abyss?”
Elliot shrugged. “I don’t know-probably something I heard John say. It seemed appropriate. Want me to tell him to make his object lessons hands-off?”
She shook her head. “At least it wasn’t a long rant about secret government documents hidden in a vault under the station house. I’ll take object lessons over that any day.”
“Amen to that. Can you pour me a cup while you’re at it?”
With that, Elliot headed to his desk. Olivia poured two mugs, placed one on her partner’sdesk, then took the other with her to Cragen’s office.
Next Chapter: Otten
April 4th
SVU Squad Room
Do I really want a cup of that sludge?
Olivia stared at the black liquid at the bottom of the coffeepot. Casey, she knew, would pour and drink without thinking twice. Elliot would say something sharp to the room at-large then toss the dregs and make more. John would leave the sludge to solidify while he made himself a mug of tea and Fin wouldn’t notice if tadpoles swam in the pot since he drank cola in the afternoon, even in winter.
And the Captain would stand by the pot until one of us jumped up and made a fresh pot. Rank does have its privileges.
She picked up a clean mug and shifted her concentration to it.
I wonder what Donna would do? Would she pitch in or be selfish?
It wasn’t a moot question. Thanks to a short conversation earlier that afternoon, Olivia had reason to carefully weigh the matter.
Courthouse, outside Part 15
Earlier on April 4th
Olivia sat on the bench facing the court’s door, waiting to be called. The Simkins case was a slam-dunk-the perp had both the knife used in the assault and the vic’s underwear hidden in his truck’s tool box-but there was no telling what a jury would do. Casey had prepped her the evening before; now, she waited her turn to testify. In Olivia’s case, waiting meant pacing the hall, stopping each pass before the courtroom’s door to glare at the lack of a bailiff calling her name.
“Benson? Olivia Benson? Is that you?”
Olivia spun on her heel, but that pesky bailiff still wasn’t at the door. She then turned left where a woman her age and height was watching her from a long bench.
The woman stood and crossed to her.
“You probably don’t remember me-Donna Loudoun. We attended the Academy together.”
It took a moment before Olivia recollected the name. Donna Jo Loudoun had been a skinny girl with long curly blonde hair and a thick West Virginian accent who did okay on the classroom work and excelled in the firearms and physical training exercises. Olivia shared a few lunch breaks and after-class beers with her and some other female cadets, but the two had not been anything close to friends. After graduation, Donna had been assigned to Staten Island and Olivia had not stayed in touch.
The woman now standing before Olivia did not match the Donna of memory. Height was the same, but the hair was now short, brown, and expensively styled. Her pants suit and blouse hadn’t come from the Sears catalogue and her hands had lost the calluses from milking an entire dairy herd twice daily and now sported an excellent set of French nails.
“Wow, Donna-you look like you grew up in Westchester. If you hadn’t said your name, I wouldn’t have recognized you.”
Donna’s laugh was a low, throaty chuckle. “I’ll take that as a compliment. It took a lot of effort, but I finally left Walnut Grove behind me. Now, it takes a linguist to tell I wasn’t born in the Empire State.”
“Why the change?” Olivia asked.
Donna nodded. “I was Narcotics. My lieutenant suggested that I broaden my horizons, so I did. I can go undercover as a suburban housewife desperate for Oxycodin, or a Wall Street analyst dealing coke to my cube mates, or backslide and be a small-town hick with a meth lab hid near my daddy’s still. The versatility made me valuable.”
“But you’re no longer Narcotics?”
Donna frowned. “I got burned on a couple of assignments. Since I was useless as an operative, I transferred to Special Frauds last year. It kept me alive, but it’s boring. I’d rather play at being an analyst than actually spend my time shuffling papers.”
Olivia laughed. “If you ever find an assignment that doesn’t shuffle papers, let me know-I’ll put my transfer in so fast, I’ll start yesterday.”
Donna didn’t join in her amusement. “I’m not talking about the usual reports. I hate reading financials, collating tax forms, comparing this account statement with that account statement. I’d rather have your job.”
“My job?”
“Yes. You want to make your Academy classmate happy, you get me into SVU. I can’t take the inaction-I need excitement.”
“Detective Olivia Benson!”
Olivia turned toward Part 15, where the bailiff she wanted so badly ten minutes before was now calling her name.
“Damn, Donna. We need to talk about this, but I got to go.”
Donna patted her arm. “Go testify. I’ll call you. We’ll have lunch and plan how to get me out of Frauds.”
With that, Donna strode away, her heels sharp and quick on the marble floor.
SVU Squad Room
April 4th
I should have said something, told Donna this job wasn’t all excitement and fun. Besides, I can’t guarantee anything; I just work here. Best I can do is tell Cragen about her and let him decide what do to.
Olivia stared at the mug in her hand.
Do I want to do that?
“You’re standing between me and the hot water.”
She looked over her shoulder. There stood Munch, a figure in black relieved only by the thin blue pattern in his tie and the leather of his shoulder holster. His hands cupped a ceramic mug while he peered at her over his tinted lenses.
Olivia took the hint and stepped sideways. “I’d rather stand between a mother bear and her cub than between you and your afternoon tea.”
Munch moved forward and selected a tea bag, soaking it in hot water from the coffee urn.
“Smart choice, Olivia. I’m much more dangerous than a she-bear; she isn’t armed.”
“Gun battles over tea,” she said, her tone lighter than his. “What would IAD think of us?”
Munch twisted his head to look at her, his smile small but genuine. “The SVU Tea Party,” he answered, “thrown to protest people who block the coffeepot while thinking. What had you so deep in thought?”
Olivia began to make a fresh pot of coffee. “I met someone I knew at the academy. She wants me to recommend her to Cragen.”
Munch turned his gaze from her to the corner made by the back wall and stairway.
“I wouldn’t wish this job on anyone.”
Olivia poured new grounds into the filter.
“Yeah, but we sure could use the extra bodies. As much as I like overtime….”
Munch interrupted “-it would be nice to see the inside of your eyelids once in a while?”
“You got it.”
She finished assembling the new pot of coffee and turned to face him. “So, given your experience and expertise….”
Munch snorted.
“Okay, I’ll skip the soft soap. Donna’s a good cop, but not a people person. She’s got undercover experience, but she might be a glory hound. Do I recommend her to the Captain or do I pretend I did and hope she’ll never learn I didn’t?”
Olivia watched his face as Munch considered her question. First, he pursed his lips, then flattened them against his teeth. His gaze shifted from her face back to the corner under the stairs, where it remained for several seconds. He then nodded once and returned his attention to her.
“Any detective transferred here will be a good detective-Cragen and the brass make certain of that. Take a step to your right and face your desk, please.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it.”
Olivia complied. Munch then turned to face her, leaving her cornered by him, the refrigerator, and the coffeepot.
“Now, stand on one foot.”
She chuckled at the odd request. “Does it matter which foot?”
He pointed a finger at her feet. “Eeney, meeney-how about the right one?”
She bent her right knee, raising her foot behind her.
“Now, picture yourself standing on the point of a pin.”
Olivia put her foot down. “C’mon, John. Angels dance on the heads of pins, not the points.”
“Angels are smarter than we are.”
With the hand not holding his mug, Munch waved her foot back up. Olivia realized that, although his eyes were looking at her, he didn’t seem to see her. Whatever he was trying to convey, it required all his attention.
Okay, John-let’s see what kind of game you’re running on me.
She raised her foot again. Munch resumed speaking.
“Imagine this-you, like every other SVU detective, are standing on the point of a pin suspended over an unfathomable abyss. We can’t see what the abyss contains, but we know that we dare not fall into it. Our pins are not comfortable places-in fact, they’re damned painful, but that is where we have to stand in order to do our jobs.
“While we’re on the job, we must withstand many forces, all trying to disturb our balance, to force us off our pints and into the abyss. There’s the desires of our families and friends….”
He reached out and laid his fingertips on her forehead, a move that barely disturbed her balance. Olivia shifted on her left foot in reaction to the slight pressure.
“There’s the requirements of the job….”
Munch placed his hand on her right collarbone and pushed her backward.
“There’s the needs of the victims….”
A harder push on her right shoulder shoved her sideways; Olivia twisted away to keep her balance. Before she had recovered, he spoke again.
“And the rights of the perps….”
The same slam, but on her left shoulder.
“Your own need for sleep, food, a life of your own…”
A hard shove to her sternum.
“…and the needs and demands of your partner and coworkers….”
A palm pushed against her chin, sharp and hard. Her head snapped back and she threw up her left hand to keep from toppling.
“All these forces strive to push you off-balance, to drive you into the abyss. Only two things keep you from falling-your ability to do this job….”
He shoved her hard, first left, then right. Olivia struggled to stay upright under the onslaught.
“…and the help of your fellow detectives from their own pinpoints.”
He clasped her wrist and steadied her until she regained her balance. His lenses had cleared but his eyes were dark, unreadable, as though they mirrored the abyss he had just described. Olivia felt the conflict between their scariness and the gentle warmth around her wrist and wondered why people ignored John to worry about her partner’s stability.
Then Munch shifted his focus from wherever it had been back to her.
“It’s that balance that matters, Olivia. If your friend can stay on her pin and spare some balance for others when they wobble, then recommend her. Otherwise, she’s better off anywhere else but here.”
He tipped his head toward her, nothing but concern evident on his face.
“Understand?”
She nodded, uncertain that she did but unwilling to face another demonstration.
He smiled. “Glad to be of help.”
He turned, mug still clasped in his hand. Olivia watched without moving until he had returned to his desk, then she shifted her feet. The unevenness of the floor below the ball of her left foot felt as though it might be the point of a pin.
It’s like I just had a fast trip through the Twilight Zone. Hell, maybe I did-Rod Serling and Munch both dress alike.
“You okay?”
She looked up. Elliot was leaning over the railing above her, his tie loose about his neck and his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows.
“What the hell was Munch doing to you?”
Olivia shrugged, not willing to try an explanation.
“I asked him a question. That was his answer-I think he’d call it ‘an object lesson.’’”
She turned her attention to Munch, who leaned back in his chair, newspaper in hand, reading as though nothing strange had happened.
“John thinks too much,” she said, “and what he thinks about is really weird.”
“When you look into an abyss,” Elliot responded, “the abyss also looks at you.”
Olivia snapped her gaze back to her partner. “What was that about an abyss?”
Elliot shrugged. “I don’t know-probably something I heard John say. It seemed appropriate. Want me to tell him to make his object lessons hands-off?”
She shook her head. “At least it wasn’t a long rant about secret government documents hidden in a vault under the station house. I’ll take object lessons over that any day.”
“Amen to that. Can you pour me a cup while you’re at it?”
With that, Elliot headed to his desk. Olivia poured two mugs, placed one on her partner’sdesk, then took the other with her to Cragen’s office.
Next Chapter: Otten