Olivia Benson was a woman with many hidden talents. One of them was her love of writing. Poetry, short stories, even a few daydreams of writing a book. Over the years she had written over one hundred pieces of work, each one giving her a burst of pride. But today was the only day that she could remember that they didn't bring her joy. Today was the day she would have to organize them all. She had woken up and seen it circled on her new calendar. Elliot had given to her for Christmas, and she had fallen in love with the pictures of puppies on every month. The month of March hosted the adorable picture of a baby basset hound. The seasoned detective had been mesmerized by the floppy ears and big brown eyes from the start. Elliot had teased her about it, saying that he would just have to buy her one for her birthday in August.
She sighed, wasting time daydreaming wouldn't get her work done. So she did her usual morning ritual: took a shower, got dressed, and made some herbal tea. She chose to eat half of an orange, a small blueberry muffin, and a piece of toast with strawberry jam. After finishing up and throwing the dishes in the dishwasher, she prepared for the task at hand. "This is not going to be easy," she mused aloud, "but it sure beats doing DD5's." She then burst into a huge smile. Cragen had given her the day off as a thank you for her hard work lately. She had been glad to get a rare break from the everyday horrors that accompanied her job. Of course, leaving Elliot alone to finish three cases worth of paperwork was an added bonus.
Olivia walked into her office and looked around. There were papers cluttering her desk along with clips, an overturned stapler, boxes of staples, and at least a dozen pens and pencils. The bookcase was just as bad, with books and a few papers haphazardly onto its shelves. On top was a medium plastic tub. She also noticed that she would need to vacuum the carpet and dust off the picture frames. Turning to the small table against the wall, she decided that this task was going to take longer than a couple hours. The table was being smothered with her pens, old mail, a few CD's, and a small stereo. Underneath the table was a trunk that she inherited from her mother. It was handmade by a family friend. It had two separate compartments, each with its own separate lock and key. Her side was the left; Serena had used the right. She had received the key when her mother passed away, but never opened it. The key had been misplaced years ago and she never had the time to go looking for it. The detective sighed again. Stalling by admiring the pathetic excuse for an office wasn't productive.
Just as she had reached for a stack of mail, her phone rang. Letting out a relived sigh at a chance to procrastinate, she immediately did an about face and walked into the living room. Picking up the phone, she looked down and recognized the number as Cragen's cell phone.
"What's up Captain," she said in a confused voice, "Wasn't today my day off?" Looking at the clock she noticed that it was only three hours into the work day.
"Liv," Cragen voice crackled through the phone. "You need to get down here."
Olivia's blood turned cold at the tone of his voice. Her stomach dropped and tears welled up in her eyes. Something happened, and whatever it was, it was going to hurt. "Who." She managed to choke out. Her voice wasn't questioning, on the contrary, it was dead serious. But nothing could have prepared her for what she heard next.