Part 4: If I can only update fifteen pages at a time, this is going to take forever
A quick check with the range master indicated that she hadn’t been there all day. It seemed very unusual, and as Casey loaded her first chamber of ammunition she frowned, it was unlike Olivia to no-show and not give the ADA some notification. When a full hour had passed and Casey was cleaning her weapon, finished, she felt very uneasy.
She only had one more court appearance that afternoon, which was directly after her scheduled hour of shooting, so after the worlds fastest bail hearing, she hightailed it back down to the precinct.
When Elliot Stabler heard heels clicking down the hallway with that particular cadence, he knew someone was about to get the full brunt of their legal eagle’s wrath. The heels stopped at his desk, forcing him to look up.
“Hey Novak,”
“Elliot,” her voice was measured, carefully non-confrontational. “Do you happen to know where your partner is?”
“Police Academy?” he said hopefully, knowing that couldn’t be the case if Novak was standing at his desk.
“Try again,” she said with a smile that betrayed no happiness.
“I don’t know. Have you tried calling her?”
“No answer,”
“Home?”
“Don’t have it.”
“Oh,” Looking somewhat sheepish, he reached for his phone and with familiar fingers dialled Olivia’s home number. It rang and rang, finally going to voice mail. He frowned, tried the phone again, and set the receiver back in its hook. “She’s not at home.”
“Well if she’s not at home and she’s hasn’t showed up for work, where is she?” Casey asked impatiently.
“Hold on, lemme try her mail service.” He dialled, listened, punched in the appropriate phone number and access code. “Got it, sounds like she had a Doctor’s appointment today. Should be back by now, I mean the appointment was early this morning.”
“May I?”
“Sure,”
Casey listened to the cheerful receptionist reminding Olivia of her appointment that morning and suddenly it clicked. She recognised the Doctor’s name from Olivia’s repeated griping, it was her orthopaedic surgeon. Olivia’s ‘appointment’ was to go in for surgery. She set the receiver back down with a slight tremble.
“Well?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest in a slightly impatient manner.
“She went in for surgery,” Casey said softly, “Did she tell you?”
“Oh hell,” he slapped the desk loudly, “Damn it Olivia, you independent, bull-headed, self-sufficient… She does this all the time.” He complained, looking up at the ADA with frustration, “Just goes off all on her own. Probably didn’t even cross her mind to ask for help.”
“No, it’s more her style to not want anyone to make a fuss over her,” Casey said with surprising insight, “Do you think you can locate this Doctor’s office?”
“Watch me,”
Two phone calls later, one to the office receptionist and one to the hospital, and they’d found Olivia. She was in recovery, set to be released within the hour. Casey left a flaming message at the nurse’s station, with strict orders that they were to wait for her arrival before letting the patient loose or the wrath of God would drop down on them.
Elliot had never seen Casey go all pit bull outside of the courtroom before, but she had the bit between her teeth this time. Novak marshalled her troops and swept out of the precinct squad room in a flash of white and bright lime green, at least one set of raised eyebrows following in her wake.
Casey showed up at the hospital on her bike red faced and sweating, she’d made the 25 block ride in a fraction of the time it would have usually taken her, making enough daring dives into traffic that she was afraid of getting stopped at some point. Fortunately, or perhaps not, Casey had become familiar with the layout of many of the local hospitals, from her term at the SVU. She could find the appropriate wing and floor with nary a pause, her ADA identification discouraging people from disturbing her manic dash through the building.
Checking in at the nurse’s station, she was relieved to find Olivia was still there, and she paused for a minute, going into the ladies room to splash cold water on her face. Patting with a rough brown paper towel, she got a good look at herself in the mirror.
The flushed, frantic face that was presented in the reflective surface was a stranger. Casey had to look down, break eye contact with the woman that she knew very little about. That woman was deeply and headily in smit with another woman, who was a colleague and a friend, but that strange woman in the mirror was the one driving Casey Novak’s body forward.
She willed her heart to stop pounding in her ears, willed her brain to stand up and bloody take control of the situation, fearful of what might happen if the illogical, undisciplined, and inexcusably tender soft side of her psyche was allowed to run the show. Thus braced, she calmly and quietly opened the restroom door, walked, slowly, to the appropriate room, and seeing Olivia perched on the bed, putting the finishing touches on her clothing, did not immediately barge down the door and demand to know what the hell she was thinking.
It was a great exercise of self restraint.
“Liv…” she asked, softly rapping on the door.
From watching Olivia’s back, she could see the moment of confusion, as Olivia tipped her head, trying to reconcile the voice and the words. When the connection was made, Olivia’s back stiffened, her shoulders squared, and all motion just froze, for a long minute the detective just didn’t move, then she turned slowly.
“Casey,” she was trying not to sound as surprised as she felt.
“I thought you could use a hand,” the attorney offered, “The nurses said you hadn’t left yet.”
Olivia chose not to mention that one of the RN’s had told her that ‘her girlfriend’ was on her way that the detective was held on release until ‘her girlfriend’ had come to pick her up. It made Liv uncomfortable that it was so easily assumed she had a girlfriend, but it wasn’t uncomfortable enough that she corrected the woman.
“How’d you know?”
“I asked Elliot,” Casey grabbed Olivia’s crutches, ready to give them to her detective as soon as she’d decided to stand. She tried very hard not to follow the nimble fingers as Olivia finished buttoning her blouse.
Olivia buttoned from the bottom up.
“He didn’t know,” Olivia observed, still not making eye contact.
“He checked your messages, I recognised the name of the Doctor,” Casey shrugged, “He was kinda steamed you didn’t tell him.”
“Well now, ain’t that precious,” A woman’s voice, with a middling Spanish accent, came from the open doorway. “O-livia Benson, I thought I told you that I never wanted to see you in my hospital again, chica.”
“It wasn’t my idea,” Olivia protested, getting immediately defensive.
“You damn right,” the woman, who had a massive mop of pitch black curls, stood about five foot even, in tennis shoes, and was dressed in the ubiquitous pale green scrubs, stethoscope, and white lab coat, was very clearly a doctor, and just as clearly pissed off.
“Excuse me, who the hell are you?” Casey felt her defensive hackles rising.
“I’m Rosalinda Maria Gutierrez, MD, and I got a bone to pick with your girlfriend.” She yanked Olivia’s chart from the foot of the bed, flipped to a page, and thrust it under Olivia’s nose, “What does that say?”
The detective mumbled something, and when the little spitfire just gave her a glare that could peel institutional paint off a cinder-block wall, she growled, “Patient arrested”
“Now, I know you cops aren’t real bright some days, so lemme e’splain it to ya,” The petite woman advanced on Olivia with the chart brandished, “Arrested don’t mean no handcuffs, that means your heart fuckin’ stopped on the fuckin’ table.”
Casey felt her knees give, for a moment she was using the crutches to support herself.
“How many times do I have to tell you your blood pressure is too high, hmm?” the little Spanish woman waggled the chart, “How many times, chica, huh? I tell you every goddamned time I see you, that your blood pressure is the through the roof. What the fuck are you thinking? You wanna die? You wanna keel over in some goddamned wheelie chair in a police precinct somewhere so they can say you died with your boots on, is that it?”
Olivia remained silent; Casey was too shocked to say anything.
“I am not gonna be called in on you again, you unnerstand me?” the scolding continued, and as she recovered her faculties, Casey realised that instead of being angry Olivia looked… struck. “How many times do I have to restart you’re your soft little heart before you get the picture? Huh? You know something- every man, woman, or chile who’s been molested or raped in the past five years knows your name. Word is out: someone get raped, call Benson and Stabler. You’ve helped hundreds of us. That’s your life…”
She reached down and cupped Olivia’s face softly; Casey could see that both women were trembling. “God put you in this place to help people. Why you don’t respect that? Why do you want to throw your life away? Do you know how many people you could help? If you don’t keel over and die.”
“You gonna listen to me and listen good: I’m prescribing you blood pressure medication. You’re gonna take it this time. You’re going to quit eating like cop, no more fast food. You drink water, not coffee. You’re gonna go to your therapist, you gonna do every thing he asks. He says fuck a duck; you find one that quacks real softly.” The doctor let go of Olivia and fixed a questioning gaze on Casey Novak.
“You in charge of this mess?” she asked, rhetorically.
“She’s my detective,” Casey replied taking the responsibility without presuming anything that could be considered romantic.
“Well I want your personal guarantee that you are gonna make sure that she takes her meds.”
“Got it,” Casey smiled, “I’m glad you’re a MD not a JD.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t ever want to be on the other side of the bench with you in court.” The woman laughed, her anger finally letting loose.
“Liv, girl, what the hell is wrong with you?” the doctor put one hand on her hip, “You got this gorgeous broad to come home to and you still can’t relax? When’s the last nookie you got?”
Olivia’s face drained, her eyes went wide, jaw dropped. Casey quickly interjected. “That’s privileged information, counsellor, and uh… we’re… we don’t live together.”
“Well, get her a cat, or a fish, or something, give her a goddamn hug once in a while, and a good strong screaming orgasm wouldn’t go amiss either.” She checked Casey out frankly, from head to toe. “I don’t see nothin’ wrong with you…”
Olivia cut her off mid-sentence, “That’s enough, I get the picture.”
“I hope you do.” Rosalinda sat on the bed next to the detective and they wrapped up in a mutual hug, “I really hope you do.”
“Is she free to go?” asked Casey, after a long few minutes of silence, ignoring the few silent tears that streaked Olivia’s face.
“Yes, Miss District-Attorney, your detective is perfectly free to go,” the Doctor stood, rearranging her hair, and rummaging in a lab coat pocket for something, “Here; these are the ‘scripts for the blood pressure medication, antibiotic, and the painkiller for her knee. I want them filled and taken. No excuses.”
“I promise,”
It was a long, silent ride back to Olivia’s apartment. Casey had managed to wrangle a van shaped cab, so her bike fit in the back. She called the pharmacy to get an ETA on the prescription, all the while; Liv was silent in the seat next to her, looking out the window with a carefully empty expression.
It was her cop face; every cop Casey knew had one: it was the deadpan, unemotional face that their real personalities slid behind when they had to deal with something. You could see it in Olivia’s eyes, the rusty gaze went flat, her lips pulled in and down slightly, not quite a scowl but close, and mostly she just looked angry.
The detective declined help getting up the stairs, so Casey chained her bike outside, and acted as if the pace was her idea. The door was closed and latched behind them before Olivia chose to speak.
“I’m sorry about that.”
“So am I,” She knew that Olivia wouldn’t want anyone’s pity, “I’m going to run back out and grab the prescription and something to eat. You in the mood for anything specific?”
“Not really,” Olivia made it to her big brown leather chair and sagged heavily into it, not looking up; her voice was low and troubled. “Casey… thanks. You didn’t have to be here.”
“I wanted to be,” the ADA said, “Liv, I care about you. It’s what friends are for.”
“Still didn’t have to,” Olivia protested weakly.
“Care about you? No, I suppose I didn’t have to, but I do, so get used to it.”
It was two quick trips, one to the pharmacy, the other to the deli, and Casey used Olivia’s keys to let herself back in, somewhat surprised when the detective had chucked them at her as she left.
As she opened the apartment door slowly, she heard the shower going, hoping Liv had the sense to not get her stitches wet, Casey was leaning into the fridge to scrounge a non-caffeinated, non-alcoholic beverage when the water turned off abruptly. It was a good twenty minutes later before Olivia came crutching out of the bedroom, damp and fragrant with the simple smell of soap.
“Looks good, I’m starved,”
Instead of retreating back to her leather chair, Casey insisted they sit side by side on the sofa. Once the sandwiches were polished off, she patted the seat beside her expectantly. When Olivia frowned, questioningly, Casey chuckled and said, “I recall some very, um, explicit instructions Detective Benson, time for your mandatory hug.”
Olivia looked at her as though she’d ceased all brain stem activity, and then smirked, “You going to help out with the ‘screaming orgasm’ part too?”
“Only if you’re very well behaved,” Casey replied, feeling herself blush a little, but managing to keep a game face going.
“Oh I can be very good,” Liv purred comically, deliberately fishing for a smile, which she received with a gentle poke in the ribs.
“I don’t doubt it,”
It took a few minutes for them to get situated on the sofa, between the knee brace, and all the elbows and legs, but they finally found a position that wasn’t overly romantic, but a good enough cuddle, nevertheless. Casey was propped up horizontally on the sofa, Olivia was seated with her back resting on the ADA’s stomach and chest, butt snugly wedged between Casey’s legs. Legs and arms were a little tangled, but as far as the medicinal benefits of the hug went, the attorney was relatively certain they were being met.
She was unprepared for the effect that being so close to Olivia would have on her poor underappreciated endocrine system. Her hormones went on total overdrive. She could smell the detective, fresh from the shower, warm, and relaxed. Liv’s body was covered only by the technicality of a thin tank top and flannel, checked pants, and felt firm and solid. Casey playfully mussed Olivia’s damp hair, sending a spray of droplets around, pulling lightly, and the detective wiggled around, protesting, and sending showers of current directly between Casey’s legs.
It surprised the attorney that she was actually getting a little turned on, and she reached for the remote to try and cool things slightly. She switched the television on to an old re-run of Stargate. It got her a slight raised eyebrow, but the detective just settled back. It was one of their more humorous episodes, the one where Jack and Teal’c were stuck in the Groundhog Day.
It wasn’t Olivia’s common fare, but she found herself laughing along with Casey as Jack O’Neil cavorted around the screen in his usual deadpan antics. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes during one of the commercial breaks, just revelling in the feeling of being cared about.
She was in pain, exhausted, and irrationally angry. She kept trying to tamp that anger down, but it was a comfortable old feeling. It was easier to be angry than to be scared. The frank assessment of her physical condition had really disturbed her, and she was pathetically grateful that Casey had merely taken the whole incident completely in stride.
It was interesting, Olivia mused, feeling oddly comforted by the warmth of Casey’s body at her back. When the nurse had mentioned ‘her girlfriend’ recognition had immediately sparked, she knew the woman was talking about Casey, despite the fact that they were not romantically involved.
Yet.
It was a bad idea. Dating someone from the SVU was a disaster; her unfortunate incident with Brian Cassidy was evidence of that fact. The potential conflict of interest was staggering.
‘You wanted to with Alex….’ Her internal monologue whispered nastily, ‘If she hadn’t been straight, you would’ve.’
Alex had taken the knowledge of Olivia’s attraction with remarkable equanimity, all things considered, she’d been so caring, so considerate, so concerned when she had to turn Olivia down. The detective understood that most of humanity was very gender specific when it came to things like that, however the idea of being that narrow minded in pursuit of companionship was completely foreign to Olivia’s way of thinking. The freedom to pursue whomever she wanted was a gift she held very dear.
A gift not without price, however, despite the childish innuendo and insinuation at the precinct she kept ‘that’ part of her life very, very far away from her working relationships. Her closet door was not only shut, it was locked and bolted. It had been going out on a limb for her to try and pursue Alex, combining two of the forbidden fruits, office and gender.
That limb was calling out to her very emphatically once again.
“You still with me?” Novak asked her voice soft, she’d jogged the arm she had fastened securely about Olivia’s waist very slightly, her other hand was on Liv’s shoulder, holding the remote.
“Yeah, I’m ok,”
Liv closed her eyes again, inhaling deeply. She was close enough to Casey she could practically taste the scent of her, the urge to twist around and nuzzle to find a deeper source was compelling. Would the ADA protest or enjoy? Would she push Liv’s shoulders away or thread her hands through the short, russet hair and urge the detective forward?
“Liv…”
“Mmm?”
“Penny for your thoughts,”
Olivia chuckled, wondering briefly what the younger woman would do if she just verbalized the minor debate. Going for a happy medium, she kept her eyes closed and smiled, “You smell nice, Casey, that’s all.”
“I…well, thanks,” Liv angled her head briefly and noticed the redness creeping around the edges of Casey’s face, her neck and ears were turning pinker by the second. Liv decided to try an experiment, to see if the ADA was just shy or more interested.
Olivia carefully shifted, just a little, and lowered one shoulder, turning her head, arching her neck, and exposing a long clean line of skin right under the attorney’s nose. She watched carefully in her peripheral vision, with eyes trained to observe the slightest change in expression during an interrogation.
To her surprise, Casey’s gaze instantly dropped to the exposed spot, her mouth parted the tiniest bit, and the one arm around the brunette’s waist tightened infinitesimally. It was subtle, but the younger woman was displaying obvious signs of interest. As quickly as it happened it was gone, Liv was left wondering if Casey even knew the signals she was sending.
“I don’t mean to embarrass you;” Liv said apologetically, “My mind was just wandering.”
“That’s ok, just wasn’t expecting that,” Casey shrugged and Olivia could feel the entire movement along her own back. “Feel free to wander.”
They turned their attention back to the show, but later, after a particularly cute commercial, Casey nudged her again and inquired, “Do you want run by the SPCA or a Petco? I’ve always preferred shelters to pet stores, but if you wanted something specific…”
“Whoa, why?”
“Doctor’s orders, one pet: I believe she recommended a cat,” Casey mused thoughtfully, “Or maybe a fish, but I never thought of fish as pets, really, because they’re kinda hard to well, pet.”
“I can’t have pets in the apartment,” Olivia said, then remembering with a stab of regret that if she were currently occupying the apartment that was deeded to her, a pet wouldn’t be an issue.
“Not even a fish?”
“Maybe a fish,” Liv conceded, amused at the satisfied smile on Casey’s face.
“Ooo, how about one of those fighting fish, they don’t take up much space.”
“Problem is I’m not here too often, I don’t know if I’d be here to feed them,” Liv admitted.
“You can get one of those auto-feeders,” the attorney replied, relentlessly, “Or just take it to the precinct, put it on your desk.”
“Yeah that would go over well,” Liv chuckled, “Munch would be hand feeding it pieces of perps by the end of the week.”
“See? It’d be fun,” Casey grinned happily.
“You always steamroll people this well?”
“Daddy said it was a gift,” Casey replied without shame, “It’s one of the reasons I’m a lawyer, I needed a job that rewarded aggressive, argumentative behaviour.”
“I can’t imagine that ever getting you in trouble,” the detective replied, deadpan.
A small war ensued as Casey dug one set of fingers into Olivia’s ribs, tickling. The detective gave a shout of surprise, and then wiggled around until she could manage to pinion both of the attorney’s wrists in one large, warm, hand, returning the tickling gesture with her other. To her surprise Casey gave nary a giggle. Liv shook the trapped hands menacingly.
“Ok, ok, I give,” the younger woman was grinning madly, “I’m not ticklish though, good try.”
When Casey left that evening, Olivia was sorry to see her leave. She waited at the window, watching the attorney bike her way down the block. It felt good. She felt good.
She could get used to the feeling, despite the risks.
And, eventually, she did. Elliot would stop by frequently to let her vent about her temporary assignment, and more often than not he brought Casey along in tow. Or Casey simply tagged along like a wayward puppy. The ADA was armed with gossip; Elliot even was surprised at some of the outlandish, scary, and downright detailed things that Casey ferreted out of the 1-6 rumour mills.
Weeks passed and Casey was also a more frequent solo visitor to the Benson/Cousteau residence as well, for Olivia had elected to name her fish after the famous SCUBA diver. Apparently the fish spoke French, for the ADA insisted on disgustingly sweet baby talk to the fish in that language.
Casey had, however, progressed with her pistol to the point where Olivia had her shooting service hardball instead of paper cutters and they were discussing concealed carry rigs. It was a big decision, but Casey went ahead with the paperwork to get her licence.
Liv became a regular fixture on the Sunday afternoon softball games, first with the Sex Crimes team and also for Maureen’s high school, the Tigers. She and Casey were always invited to dinner.
Despite winks and nudges in both directions, neither Maureen nor Olivia came clean about their ‘significant other’: Maureen to her parents and Olivia to person in question. Time was not static, though, and two things began to creep up on the detective slowly.
One: the meeting of the board of directors of Cabot Enterprises. It was in Boston, a quick train ride away, but when she received the packet of ‘preparatory materials’ by registered courier, it had made as much sense as reading the dictionary. Backwards.
Two: renewal of the lease on her apartment, which if she chose to do it, would be a humongous waste of money and time, for Alex’s old apartment was both closer and cheaper for her to reside. Moving in would have acknowledged that she was gone, however, and that was something Olivia simply didn’t want to deal with.
Both things she just wanted to dump on someone else’s lap. Both things were something she had to explain to Elliot and Casey, as both would tend to notice if she went conspicuously absent for days at a time and then suddenly switched domiciles.
It was tempting to just moosh the two problems together and just dump it on Casey’s lap to see what she had to say about it. At least for the board meeting that seemed like a very viable option, because although she was decent at reading legal mumbo-jumbo, this kind of language was way over her head.
Scratch that she just wanted someone other than herself with which to bitch about her problems.
Olivia was just frustrated, her ‘class’ was winding down to the last few weeks, surprisingly the Neanderthals were remarkably accommodating, seeing as they had an expert in rape, kiddie crime, and sexually related homicide, they were actually giving her the opportunity to present the detective’s side of criminology.
She’d spent a satisfying Sunday evening at Elliot’s enjoying dinner, Casey, and plucking out some of the more textbook cases to present. The big question was: what was a ‘textbook’ investigative case?
Neither Elliot, a twelve year veteran, nor Casey, the rookie lawyer, had a real idea of what constituted a ‘typical’ case. All of the cases they got were just a little bit strange, that’s why they were assigned to the SVU. Olivia just concentrated on the process, interviewing, rape kits, evidence collection, arresting and testifying.
She walked into the class room a few minutes before class was scheduled to start with a hundred and fifty pages of photocopied case file with names and case numbers carefully whitened out and substituted for generic names and single digits.
She took a perch on the desk, not behind it, and commandeered a projector, with little transparencies identical to the pages she was handing out. With the aid of the AV lab, she had a cassette tape and a sheet with carefully marked counter numbers; she wanted them to hear the voice of a rape victim, a molested child, and the slick defence of a man who had all the answers.
Her students filed in, talking and joshing among themselves. She had one of her nicer partners pass out the papers, because navigating close rows of seats was a challenge in crutches.
Everything went well through the lunch break, she covered the legal definition of rape, how rape kits were collected and she was just beginning to stress the importance of interviewing the victim with delicacy when she heard a snort of suppressed laughter from the back of the room.
It was stereotypical, a small knot of footsloggers from the 2-7, who thought they’d seen it all because that was the squad HQ for some of the hardest hitters in homicide.
“Excuse me, you boys think something is funny?” she set down the overhead pen that had been filling the rest of the room in on interview techniques that worked on rape victims. “Forcing a woman to oral cop turn you on or something?”
“Hey, let’s keep it civil ok?” That was from one of her so called ‘partners’ and she spared a momentary, withering, glance.
“Yeah, detective,” one of the leaders of the little gang drawled, “I just don’t understand why you gotta be so…” he waved his hands in an effeminate, wiggling gesture, “…accommodating with some of these ‘special victims’, I mean, c’mon, it’s kinda obvious what was going on there.”
“First of all,” Olivia snapped the cap back on her pen, taking a giant mental moment to calm herself, “The reason why there’s an entire unit of the force dedicated to dealing with violent, sexually based crimes is because sex crimes, even sexually based homicides, are a different beast entirely from any other kind of criminology. It’s ugly, it’s psychologically damaging, and it’s hard on the soul to see brutality on that scale, day after day.”
She fixed the unfortunate offender with a steely glare, “Most rape victims never report crimes, out of shame, out of fear of retribution, and out of concern that no one will take them seriously. And with an attitude like yours, I don’t blame them.” She cut off any protest by continuing, “Often we get one chance, one, to get a victim to open up about their attack. If it’s not handled correctly, the victim gets even more traumatized and we loose the perp, who because of the astronomical rate of recidivism of sexual predators, will rape again.”
“Hey, now, I’m just saying…”
“Secondly, if you think my job is so simple, please, tell us what happened at the brownstone that evening,” she leaned back on her hands, swinging her legs in front of the desk. “Illuminate for everyone the sheer simplicity of a straight up he said/she said.” The officer was now shifting uncomfortably, and she smiled with ruthless amusement, “Enthral me.”
“Well…” he shuffled through the file she’d provided, “Look, she’s the domestic, he’s a good, family kinda guy, big pay-check, wife and kids. There’s no history of domestic on him, rape kit came back with zippo… I’m thinking the sex was consensual, maybe an affair, he turns it off, she loses her sugar daddy, cries rape hoping she’ll get a settlement.”
“Just that easy?”
“Pretty open and shut.”
Olivia couldn’t help herself, she smiled, when that clearly made the guy angry, she had to chuckle. “Husband later confessed, under a mountain of overwhelming evidence, to not one, but three rapes, two to separate domestics and one on his wife. Sing-Sing, 25-50 with the possibility of parole after twenty.”
He was clearly surprised, his complexion reddening, Olivia continued relentlessly, “You just thought she was a greedy, lying bitch out to do him dirt, huh? ‘Cause an upstanding family guy like him could stoop to doing the help, but was too good for force? An attitude like that has no place investigating a crime. Doubly so for special victims, because we have what most cops can’t handle: living victims.”
“We don’t pick the vic: that is the first lesson of this job.” Olivia folded her arms, “A drunk, strung out junkie can come in and report a rape. We treat it the same as any other.”
“Oh please, spare me,” He scoffed. “Like some junkie is reliable testimony.”
“I didn’t believe her,” Olivia said baldly, “And six more women were kidnapped, tortured, raped, and brutalized before we finally tracked down the perp. That ‘junkie’ was picked because he figured no one would take her seriously.”
You could have heard a pin drop in the room, and Officer Macho laughed a little, “This is ridiculous, you SVU lot are nuts.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Liv smiled nastily, “Because you’re dismissed, Sergeant, if have any say in the matter, I hope you never make Lieutenant. Have a nice day.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut it off, “Leave. Now. Don’t come back.”
One of the detectives, the detective that had chastised her to ‘be civil’, came up after she’d finished her lecture and begun packing her things away, and in an undertone said, “You know, I think you were being a little harsh there. I mean they are supposed to be learning about all this. You gotta admit these guys aren’t exactly ‘special victims’ experts.”
“Really?” she said with false brightness “That must have skipped my mind, because what I learned about working as team is that you always back your partner’s play. I guess supporting each other is just some, weirdo, thing that we do in the SVU that some people in other units seem to disregard. My mistake. I won’t make it again.”