Work Text:
Olivia owed a debt. Or rather, her father did, but whoever he was, wherever he was, he wasn't going to show his felonious butt up here at the 1-6 at ridiculous o'clock in the morning to begin a career catching the monsters who preyed upon the more vulnerable people of New York City. After all, he was one of them.
She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart and straightened her shoulders as he looked up at the precinct...if it even could be called a precinct - apparently it had been condemned, but the government building they were due to move to was still under construction, held up in fights about funding between the city and 1PP, so who knew when that would be ready. So for now she had to force herself to step over the threshold, mysterious vines twisting around the doorway, and a faint squeak of a...mouse? rat? Was that scurrying rodent footsteps she heard as she stepped inside?
She frowned. If the city's most vulnerable victims were to come down here to make reports it would need cleaned up. Who has in charge around here anyway? She looked again at the memo in her hand - she was to find a Detective Stabler, he would show her the ropes apparently, and take her under his wing until she proved herself a brand new detective.
She climbed the twisty staircase, blowing cobwebs out of her way, wondering if the municipal cleaning services just avoided this building altogether. A bird fluttered in, sailing over her shoulder as if it owned the place and unperturbed by humans, landed on the top step, announcing her arrival with a series of melodious chirps.
Before she could even survey the squad room her vision was blocked by someone thrusting a tea tray in her face. Voices soon followed and for a moment Olivia thought she was hallucinating that the tea cups and spoons were talking to her. She blinked and people swam into focus behind the tray, a tall laconic man in a suit that hung off his lanky frame was drolly welcoming her to something that sounded suspiciously like a 'castle' while his partner, shorter, with a smirk, sporting street clothes and a pony tail cheerfully told her, "Ignore Munch, he's got some paranoid delusion we're all trapped in a fairytale - would you like some tea?"
“Or a Disney movie," a woman chimed in.
“Nah, it’s not dark enough for that," Munch rejoined.
Olivia focused on the woman as she shifted her box of her desk stuff to one hip and stuck out her hand. “I’m Olivia.”
"I'm Monique. You're the new girl, hope you got more mettle than you look, or the beast is going to eat you alive." She snorted as she slid down from the table where she had been perched. "This is your desk, but his majesty wants to see you before you settle in."
"Uh, ok." Olivia set her stuff down on the desk, her head spinning. Where WAS she? Were all sex crimes people this weird? She sighed. She had to be here, the pull to right her father's wrongs had been strong for years now, but she didn't know if she was ready.
"Um, so where is Detective Stabler?"
The shorter of the tea set men stuck his hand out and she shook it, relieved by the apparent normalcy of the action and the kindness in his eyes.
"I'm Fin. And he's up there" he jerked his head. "Stalks off up to his cave most days, ever since..." he trailed off.
"His wife died," Monique filled in. "He's had a hard year. Chased the perp who blew her up with everything he had, but now he's in the wind. Stabler's turned hermit, barely grunts at anyone these days."
Olivia nodded solemnly. She made to climb the staircase to the overhanging balcony office, trepidation in her steps. The staircase was even more rickety than the first one, and why on earth hadn't anyone gotten ridden of whatever invasive species of vines had wrapped around the banister? Was this tucked away little precinct (or at least this office) really so far off 1PP's radar?
She jumped slightly when she felt a cool hand wrap around her arm. "I wouldn't do that if I were you?"
"What?"
"Bother him while the sun's still up. Better let him find you." Olivia looked around, the others were nodding.
So she spent a day getting to know them, unpacking her desk, getting up to speed on their open cases, when finally there was movement from upstairs just as the sun was setting. At the first ominous creak from the balcony floorboards the rest of the squad scattered, muttering about suddenly needing to go home, go on a stakeout, going to interview perp, it seemed they all had a pressing need to be elsewhere.
Bewildered, Olivia stood her ground. Once the precinct went quiet she thought she could make out some grunt and was that...growls?
Fuck this, Olivia thought, I'm not scared of some grizzled old burned out detective who thinks he runs this place. She marched to the staircase, and gripping on to the vine covered railing, stomped up them and knocked loudly on the office door. The sign read Captain Cragen, but Olivia had been told Cragen was out on stress leave and this Stabler character has been running things for a while - if you could call terrifying the squad and avoiding human contact running anything.
There was only a grunt from inside. Olivia rolled her eyes, ignored the butterflies in her stomach, knocked again, then pushed the door open.
It creaked loudly, as if protesting her audacity
The room was dark as she took a step inside, her knees only trembling a little. Once her eyes adjusted to the dim light she looked around. Case files stacked to the ceiling, evidence boxes towering perilously around a half-buried desk, paperwork layered with dust made further turrets, and behind it all, one shadowy figure.
She stepped up to his desk, raising one eyebrow as she looked down at the man hunched there.
He hmphed. "My new detective?"
"That's right." He wasn't getting a 'sir' she decided on the spot, not after this nonsense. "Detective junior grade Olivia Benson."
He drew himself up suddenly, disturbing dust from the desk. All six feet of him towered over her and a dying ray of evening sunlight from a high window illuminated his face for the first time. He looked weathered, an unkempt beard, a haunted look in his eyes...but oh, the blue of his eyes captivated her suddenly, dust motes in sunlight seeming to slow their dance as she stared at him, and he at her.
There was a moment when he seemed as lost for words as she was, his eyes looking startled, but then in a blink it passed and he looked away from her. "Someone forced you to be here?"
She swallowed, unsure how much he had been told of her circumstances. "No. I want to be here."
"No one wants to do this work, who did ya piss off at the academy?" he fired back and she almost wanted to retreat from him a step, but she held her ground and lifted her chin. She didn't owe him an explanation.
Rain started then, splattering against the window. He gestured at the radio. "Got a call, man found dead in his car, popular pull over spot for johns, wanna come?" He eyed her, watchful.
She straightened.
He continued, eyeing her speculatively, “White male, mid-30s, multiple stab wounds, $40 left in the cigar box."
"So not a robbery. Why did we catch it?”
"Whoever did it sliced off his cigar." he cocked his head, waiting for her flinch.
She regarded him steadily "Works for me."