DISCLAIMER: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit and all characters are property of NBC and Dick Wolf.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

By Anon

Part 1

Olivia was out of the driver's seat almost before the car skidded to a stop on the quiet Connecticut street, quickly taking in her surroundings. It was almost surreal, white picket fences and perfectly groomed shrubs and lawns, the street almost empty in the late morning. 54 Primrose. Olivia's eyes were almost immediately drawn to the house three lawns away and knew without having to check that it was house 54. A cable truck was parked in front – one trench-coated figure stood just next to the van as a two men in coveralls strode up the driveway. Since when did the cable guys wear trench coats? She knew without thinking that this was the "hit" she and Stabler had discovered, that this was why her partner was now in hospital recovering from a gunshot wound, and that this is why she had driven nonstop across two states though the local authorities clearly thought they had lost their minds.

Immediately she broke into a run, pulling her gun out of its holster as she hurdled the hedge at the property's edge. She could just see the shiny gunmetal of a barrel in the sleeve of the trench coat – she made "trench-coat" her primary target though "coveralls" and "work pants" were at the front door.

"Freeze, police!"

Jessie Swanson heard the knocking at her front door and got up from reading the paper to answer it. Late morning on a rare day off – she wasn't expecting anyone… Just before she got to the door she heard a firecracker, bang, then others – and automatically dove for the floor. What the hell? She knew that sound. She hadn't heard it in what seemed like a lifetime, but it was unmistakable. Scrambling back into the house she grabbed for the phone and dialed 9-1-1. Keeping low she hurried into the living room where she could peer out of the bay window even as she called for police to her address, that there was a shooting in progress.

Olivia knew she was in trouble. Trench coat was moving, bringing up the gun he held – oh shit, shotgun – and firing. Burning tracks across her shoulder and arm, right through her favourite leather jacket. Shit. She knew she was lucky to only be grazed - she dove then returned fire, three shots. She saw Trench coat falling back against the van, she rolled onto her side and realized Coveralls had already drawn a bead on her though Workpants was still fumbling with his gun. She swore again and fired as she saw the muzzle flash. Coveralls fell back against the door behind him, even as she felt the white-hot pain and knew she had been hit. Searing agony in her chest made it too hot to breathe. Breathe Olivia. He was sliding down the white front door, leaving a messy dark red stain behind, and clearly unable to raise his gun. Workpants had a bead on her now – he hesitated. "Put the gun down!" God that hurt, she didn't even recognize the strangled sound that was her voice, she didn't have the breath to repeat the order – the gun started to drop. Inhale. Come on. And then Olivia saw it rise again – why would he surrender to one already wounded officer. He was going to finish it. She fired at the same time he did, watched two red blossoms appear on his work shirt as he stumbled back and into the well kept shrubs. Olivia ignored the pain in her chest and rolled, trying to sight the first gunman. He was still down – motionless next to the van. She knew she should get up and get their weapons away from them, but didn't have the energy to move. She didn't have the energy to hang on to her own suddenly heavy weapon. She felt the cool weight of metal slip out of her grasp, heard the gentle thud where it came to rest on the well-kept lawn, could hear her own breathing, unnaturally loud in her ears. She needed to get back to her car, to her radio.

Come on Olivia… Move Olivia, move.

And then the frustrated realization – she had just been shot. She had let herself get shot. The sound that left her throat was half pain, half raw anger.

After what seemed like an eternity, she rolled over onto her back, trying but failing to ignore the pain that motion brought. It hurt to move, it hurt to lie still, and she found herself rocking slightly as she tried to breathe, her hands convulsively tightening into fists. Was she shaking? She wanted to get up but her heels slid in the grass when she tried to get some kind of footing. God she couldn't get it together. It hurt. Everything hurt. And then froze as she heard her own name.


Jessie could see the Trench coated figure falling back against the Cable truck even as the leather jacketed figure rolled to face the house. She knew the figure – knew without a doubt – but it was surreal. Detective Olivia Benson was from her past life, and was in New York. Not here, not in Connecticut shooting Trench coated figures on her lawn. Not unless the witness protection program had failed. She saw Olivia firing her gun – heard the heavy thud as something hit her front door – and as time seemed to slow realized Olivia had been hit.

Alex Cabot saw Olivia twist around onto her stomach – saw her find and sight the first gunman, and then watched as the detective very slowly seemed to relax.

"Officer down, officer down." The words came automatically though she only half heard her own voice. Alex dropped the phone, heedless of the 9-1-1 operator's now tinny voice, and moved automatically to the front door. She listened for a moment but there was no sound. She turned the knob, the door fell in easily and she saw the bloody mess and the man whose weight had pushed it open. Obviously dead. As an afterthought she kicked the automatic out of his hand, out onto the lawn, then stepped over his outstretched arm. There was another figure face down, half crushing the hedge, unmoving. Her eyes went to the Trench coated figure lying against the van. Also obviously dead. She knew without thinking that the men had been here to kill her. What she didn't know was how Olivia Benson had known, and how she had managed to stop them. Olivia.

She hurried closer, realizing that Benson had moved, had managed to turn over onto her back, her legs were moving but her heels weren't finding any purchase on the grass. She was obviously in agony but eerily silent. And could see the growing red blossom that stained Olivia's cream coloured shirt wet-crimson. Oh god.

"Olivia." The familiar dark brown eyes that had been open, but focused on nothing but sky, flickered, then struggled to move. She was fighting to breathe, struggling to move, visibly shaking and rocking in pain. "Olivia." Alex dropped to her knees on the grass, one hand automatically moved to the center of the bloody mess on Olivia's shirt, she pressed her palm down firmly. God there was so much blood. She could feel the tremors that shivered through the other woman's body. She was already in shock.

"Alex?" Alex could hear the absolute confusion in the detective's voice, and knew that though it was no accident that she was here, she likely didn't realize who she had saved. Until now.

"Detective." Alex kept her voice steady and regarded Olivia with a warm smile even as she felt the warmth of blood seeping between her fingers. She could just hear distant sirens. Keep it together Alex. "It's good to see you Olivia – but what did you do to yourself?"

"Alex." Alex felt a hand grasping at her sleeve and realized the detective really couldn't believe it was her.

"Yeah, it's me. It's me - hang on. Just hang on Olivia." Alex caught Benson's hand and brought it tightly to her own chest. God her hand was cold. She'd lost so much blood. "Keep it together 'Liv, we've got some catching up to do…"

Part 2

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