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Did You Write This!
Olivia stuffed the note into her pocket before turning to glare at the other members of the squad. She didn't know which of them was responsible for the little gem currently collecting wrinkles in the recesses of her 501s, but she was going to find out.
"Do you think that's funny?"
Elliot was the first to turn in her direction, his brow furrowed as he tried to fathom the root of her comment. "What?"
Ignoring him, Olivia turned to the other members of the team. "Well?"
John looked over the brim of his glasses, various replies vying for attention before he settled on, "What?"
Fin exchanged a cautious look with his partner. "What?"
Digging out the note Olivia waved it in their faces, the loopy handwriting blurring across their vision, impossible to read. "Well?"
"Is this the beginning of an Abbott and Costello routine?" John turned back to his paperwork, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"So you're denying it?"
"Denying what?" Elliot's muscles bulged as he crossed his arms and subjected her to one of his more penetrating stares. It was a look that had caused many a suspect to request a fresh pair of shorts, but Olivia merely snorted.
Matching Elliot's stance, albeit with a lot less bulging of the biceps, Olivia tried her own brand of stare-down.
Elliot simply rolled his eyes. "Did I mention that we have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."
Olivia's gaze transferred to Fin. "What he said," Fin agreed.
For a second Olivia considered passing the note to Elliot. She trusted the man with her life and was as near to certain as she could be that he wasn't the one responsible for the crumpled message, but still... "So you had nothing to do with this note?"
"If it details the whereabouts to Jimmy Hoffa's body, then it's mine."
It went against years of police training and her subscription to Vogue, but she believed them. But if they hadn't written the note... Olivia turned her back on the group, and reaching for the phone tapped out a familiar number.
"Alex, it's Oliv..."
"Did you get my note?" Alex interrupted, her voice lacking its usual surety.
Olivia's knees began a fight with gravity and she slumped down on the desk. "You wrote the note?"
"Cabot wrote the note?" Elliot asked Fin.
Fin shrugged. "If she did I wouldn't wanna be in her shoes."
"Did I forget to sign it?" Alex asked, in disbelief. "Because I'm positive that I..."
"You did, I just thought, well, that it..." Olivia's voice trailed off and in the vast recesses of her mind she made a mental note to apologise to the guys for suspecting them of gross pain-in-the-arse-ness. "I'd love to."
"Love to what?" John wheeled his chair closer to where the other men were standing. "Why do I get the feeling I'll have to return my Alex RIP t-shirt?"
"Really?" There was a sound of shuffling on the other end of the line. "I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Okay," Olivia lowered her voice while simultaneously glaring at the cluster of detectives. "I'll get the spare handcuffs from Cragan's office."
The three men watched as Olivia hurried into the captain's office, but before they could raise so much as a quip, she was out and rushing across the squad room towards the exit.
"Why," asked John, "am I suddenly wishing I wrote the note?"
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