A/N: Not necessarily AU, but that's only because we don't know too much about their pasts, now do we? AU-type things: No Eli, as the kids are incredibly young, everyone is SO much younger than you'd think in the first chapter, but they grow up pretty damn fast. =) It's a one-shot, for now.
DISCLAIMER: SVU and its Characters belong to Dick Wolf. Storyline and dialogue, and narrative belong to TStabler©
Siena College, Loudenville, N.Y, Moot Court- Mock Trial, 3rd Floor of the Sarazan Student Union, 1988.
"Since it's 'Fleet Week', some troops from some branches of the armed forces are being housed in empty dorms here on campus for the night on their way to the big city. We've welcomed a few of these men and women to sit in as members of the jury," a perky blonde woman said before she sat down in her court reporter's chair. "Our Pre-Law Freshmen will act as the attorneys, judge, defendant and witnesses. We begin, with the opening statement from the prosecution." The blonde began typing as a stunningly beautiful brunette rose and addressed the jury. A Marine, who had just gotten married to his pregnant high-school sweetheart before being deployed, kicked himself very hard in the ass. She was the most amazing creature he'd ever laid eyes on.
She spoke and he hung onto every word as if were the Gospel according to Jesus himself. "Lady's and gentlemen, we are here today to find justice for Carrie Parker. Carrie was a bright young woman. Artistic, athletic, intelligent, beautiful, charming. She was a mother, a wife, a sister, a friend. A teacher, a nurse, and those that knew her would say, now, she is an angel. She would be here today with all of the people whose lives she touched, if it were not for one man's misguided affection, obsession and ultimate lapse in sanity. Her life, her essence and aura, were ripped away from her on October nineteenth, as the defendant, allegedly, kidnapped, raped and brutally murdered her, and then, on October twenty-first, returned her broken, beaten, lifeless body to her home in Glen Oaks, Queens, for her husband to find on the way to work the next morning. A senseless act of malicious violence for which only you, the jury, can seek retribution." The gorgeous brunette sat down in her chair with a smirk. She knew she nailed that.
The defense attorney, a short, stumpy looking man, rose from his seat, shaking and trying to keep his index cards straight. "Um. Wow. Okay. That is so not fair, Olivia."
"Oh, please. It was totally fair. If you're not prepared, we can always reach a deal. Your client pleads guilty now, serves twenty-five to life at Rikers, and you owe me fifty bucks. Just declare your client guilty," she said smirking.
"Fat chance. Uh, um. Well, uh. As, uh, Ms. Benson said, this case is about murder and rape and stuff, but not of Carrie Parker. The rape of the final closing arguments...oh, sorry, I skipped a card." He flipped backward. "The rape of a man's innocence and the murder of his good mane. Name. I meant 'name', but I wrote 'mane'. I'm dyslexic," he explained.
The young Marine stopped listening to the funny, nervous boy and started staring at the woman again. Her name, he gathered, was Olivia Benson. She was sitting in front of him, cool, calm and confident. The smirk on her face was priceless, and he knew that, somehow, he needed to meet her. He had to know this girl. He sat through witness testimonies and rebuttal statements, cross examinations and he laughed hysterically when Olivia made Trevor, the short, dumpy defense attorney, cry. Finally, he heard the closing arguments. He really didn't care what she said, he was totally voting her way, but the truth was, she proved her case. She was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.
"Has the jury reached a verdict?" the young man playing the judge asked.
"We have Your Honor," the foreman said. "We find the defendant, Harold Horton, guilty of rape in the first degree and murder in the first degree."
Cheers erupted from Olivia's side of the room and she held a palm out to Trevor, who unhappily slapped a fifty-dollar-bill into it. "I still think you were cheating, Olivia."
"How? I'm better than you, smarter than you, and a hell of a lot cuter than you. If that makes me a cheater than, oops, I guess I cheated," she quipped. "Thanks for buying me dinner for the next week, Langan." She turned and waved to her friends, shook her professor's hand and walked out of the door. She was almost to the elevator when she stopped. "Okay, I didn't mind you staring. It was kind of flattering. But, following me? I don't care how blue your eyes are, that's grounds for an ass kicking." She turned and grinned at the Marine.
He was taken aback by her bluntness. "Oh, uh, I'm sorry, I just..."
"I'm kidding. I won't kick your ass until after you tell me why you're following me," she said with a smile and a wink.
"Well," he said. "I don't really know. I wanted to meet you, I guess. You were incredible in there. You made a grown man cry."
"Trevor Langan is not a grown man. He's not even a growing man," she said. She held out her hand. "Olivia Benson."
"Elliot Stabler," he said, smiling brightly. He liked this girl.
She pushed the call-button for the elevator and as they waited for it she asked, "Are you staying on campus?"
"Yeah, Stanton Hall." He ran a hand through his hair. Why did this girl make his palms sweat? "Do you, uh, live on campus?"
She smirked and nodded. "Would you believe I live in Stanton Hall?"
"Wow, that's one hell of a coincidence. Um, you wanna, I mean I don't, uh, want to make any presumptions but, do you wanna take a walk or something? You could show me around," he said, shuffling his feet. Olivia laughed to herself. He was so charming, and incredibly endearing. His current shyness blended well with his clear strength and obvious cockiness. "Yeah, sure," she said with a smile.
She showed him the parks and the different buildings, she walked him through all of her academic halls, including the forensics lab, which he really enjoyed. They talked for hours about college life versus life in the military. Elliot had been taking night classes when he could at Queens College, but it wasn't the same as the full university experience. They shared stories and their hopes and dreams, and were pleasantly surprised to find out that they both wanted, one day, to work in the NYPD. It had gotten dark, and cold, and she was shivering as they stepped out of Shepard Hall into the night air. "Oh, come here." He pulled her toward him and enveloped her with his arms, warming her instantly, but she wasn't sure if it was entirely from just his hug. "We should, uh, probably go back to Stanton," he said. Olivia nodded, afraid to speak. He did strange things to her. They walked, almost cuddling, back to Stanton Hall and stopped in front of the stairs.
"Where's your room?" he asked, his arms still wrapped around her.
She had wondered, only briefly, why he still had her in his embrace, since they were now in the heated hall of the dorm building, but she didn't want him to let her go. "Second floor. Two-oh-nine."
"Do you think, uh, I could come by later? I want to get out of this uniform," he said, praying she'd say yes. He wanted to spend as much time with her as he could.
Her mind was racing. So was her heart. What was her problem? "Yes. I'd like that." They went their separate ways, and she ran up the stairs and pulled together a night-time look that said "I'm getting ready for bed but I know a hot boy is in the room so I still look sexy as hell." She opted for a black tank top and her black and pink Siena Logo sweatpants. She tousled her hair, just a little, and brushed her teeth, with a little hope that he'd kiss her before the night was through. As she spit into her sink, there was a knock on the door. Her heart gave a little thud in response.
She opened it, and he stood there, still looking nervous, in a grey tee-shirt and jeans. His mouth fell open when he took in the sight of her. "Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are?"
"Only that Trevor guy, and we both know he's getting nowhere fast," she said with a raised eyebrow. She closed the door and offered him a seat on her bed. "I'm not, by the way. I thought they checked your vision when you joined the Marines."
He laughed. "I have perfect eyesight. You're beautiful." He didn't realize what he was doing, or how it happened, but his hand wound itself in Olivia's hair and he pulled her close to him. He knew he should not be doing this. But, he also knew that this one night, with someone he would probably never see again, wouldn't kill him. Not being with her would kill him. "Your eyes are like these big, round cups of hot chocolate, with gold glitter floating in it, like sprinkles. You've got three freckles on the left side of your nose that, if you connected them in the right way, look like a heart. And," he ran his thumb over her lips. "Your mouth, Olivia, is perfect. Your smile could light up Las Vegas. That smirk could bring any straight man, and some gay ones, to his knees, and I have been dying to kiss you since I saw you in that classroom this morning."
She sucked in a breath. "Jesus, are you going to do it or are you just gonna make me crazy by talking about it?"
"Oh," he chuckled. "I'm gonna do it." He kissed her, and there was more heat, passion and desire in their kiss than any kiss he'd ever shared with the woman who was waiting for him in Queens. He heard Olivia moan, and he felt her tremble in his arms and it spurred him, making him deepen the kiss and take a bigger risk. Olivia wanted this as much as he did, and in moments their clothes were a pile of unrecognizable scraps at the foot of her bed. He flipped her over, laying on top of her for a moment. "You're so fucking gorgeous," he mumbled as his lips made their way down her body. He tasted her, sliding his tongue up her wet center, causing her to cry out in delight and pleasure, and agony all at once. He licked sweet circles around her core, making her hips buck, but he was careful not to go near her most sensitive button. He wanted to make her cum the right way, with him. He crawled back up her body, slowly and groaned. He leaped off of the bed, and reached for his pants, but Olivia stopped him.
"I have one," she whispered, pulling him back down onto her. She reached her delicate hand into her night stand, pulled out a silver-wrapped package and tore it open with her teeth. She threw the wrapper to the side, and then reached her hand down, rolling the condom onto him, slowly, earning great moans of pleasure from him. She positioned him at her entrance and he pushed, slowly, into her. She had no idea that he'd be that big, it was sending a sharp pain through her whole body. He stopped, sensing her discomfort, but she kissed him and once he started to move, it became the most extreme pleasure either of them had ever felt. Their tryst lasted well into the wee hours of the morning, and Elliot found himself unwilling to move when they were finished. She was resting on top of him, her head on his chest, as he stroked her hair. "This sucks," he said.
"I thought it was pretty fucking phenomenal," she said with a scoff.
He laughed. "It was. God, it was. I meant, it sucks that I'm leaving tomorrow. I don't think I can let you go," he said, knowing that he didn't have any choice. He was married. And about to be a father. "Here," he said, reaching up and taking off the gold cross necklace he was wearing. "Take this. I don't know when, or how, but I'm gonna see you again, and when I do, I wanna know it's you. I wanna see this around your neck, to prove you haven't forgotten about me."
Elliot blinked his eyes open. He always woke up before he could get to the best part, the part when they cried and made love again, but just because he could never dream it, it doesn't mean he couldn't remember it. Every day, every night, every moment for the last seven years he relived the best night of his life with the woman he couldn't forget. He swung his legs off the bed and ran downstairs. Rubbing his neck, because sleeping in the precinct bunkroom was murder on the bones, he groaned. "Jesus, Munch," he yelled. "That coffee smells like the goddamned sewer."
"Well, it is New York tap water a'brewin in there," John Munch, a fellow detective, said with a chuckle. "Cragen wants you in his office. Your new partner's here."
"Great, just what I need the day after the wife kicks me out. Another fucking rookie to train." Elliot pulled open the door to his captain's office, simpering. "All right, Cap. Where's the sorry son of a bitch who'll probably only last a week."
"Excuse me?" a familiar female voice said from behind him. He turned and his face lit up, as did hers.
Cragen huffed. "Elliot Stabler, this is your new partner, Olivia Benson. She's not a son of a bitch, she'll probably last more than a week."
Elliot choked on his own breath. He was sure it couldn't be, but it looked like her, and sounded like her, and it was her name that Cragen had just said. Their eyes were holding tightly to each other's gaze, and Olivia smirked. She flicked a finger under her collar and started playing with the charm on her necklace. "It's very nice to meet you, Elliot," she said with a twinkle in her eye. Elliot looked down, just a bit, and in between her thumb and forefinger, sliding up and down the chain, was the gold cross he'd given her on that fateful night.
"Olivia, you have no idea how happy I am to see you," he said. But she would, soon enough.
A/N: Part two, if you say so? Review?