Chapter Text
Jet doesn’t like visitors, doesn’t like people in her space, and she’s starting to think of OCCB as home. A safe place, tucked away from prying eyes, where she can hide behind her monitors and observe at a distance. She looks up in annoyance at the unfamiliar clack of heels, a pattern that doesn’t match her sergeant’s. It’s quick, powerful, sure – just like the woman who emerges from the hallway, flanked by Bell and Stabler.
It’s the first time she’s ever seen the indomitable Captain Benson in the flesh. She remembers the first time she ever heard the woman’s name – a detective then – abandoning her homework as she watched the conclusion of a city-wide manhunt on NY1. She’d spent hours scouring the internet for everything she could find on Detective Benson, about the depraved man who’d kidnapped her, and when he took her a second time, she’d spiraled down the dark web in the hopes of finding something that could help. But he wasn’t someone who lived online, he broke down doors and burned his memory into flesh, not to be forgotten.
She’s kept tabs on this woman ever since, whose smile faded with each move up the NYPD food chain. She’s watched every press conference Benson presided over, stone faced, her voice a velvety rasp that grew deeper with age, shoulders pulled back, eyes looking through the camera lens, as if she were reaching out to every single New Yorker. She’s carried the entire city with her all these years, making sure people like Jet get to go home safely at the end of each day.
Jet wonders if someone keeps Olivia Benson safe.
If she’s being honest, Captain Benson is the reason Jet applied to the police academy in the first place. She wanted to make this woman’s job even a fraction of a fraction easier, to help carry some of the load. And now she’s here, in Jet’s safe space, and she can’t stop staring. Morales and Washburn aren’t any better, eyes curiously following the trio who have, so far, completely ignored them. Jet wants to say something – unusual in and of itself – but she doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t want to interrupt, so she just leans back against the table and watches as the captain pokes her head into Ayanna’s office.
She’d been all business talking to Bell and Stabler, and Jet’s surprised by the quick shift in the woman’s tone as she makes eye contact with the little girl.
“Gianna? Hi. That is such a pretty name.”
It’s been more than a decade and Jet has never seen Olivia Benson smile, so it’s a shock to the system to see it now. Maybe it’s just for the sake of the little girl, maybe it’s genuine, she’s not sure, but it blossoms across her face. There are crows feet to bracket warm brown eyes, fine lines at the edge of her lips reignited, reminders that this woman once had a plethora of reasons to be happy. That her life has contained joy. Maybe still does, in moments hidden away from prying journalists and 1PP.
But what Jet finds even more interesting than the captain is the man standing just to her right.
“This is my friend, Elliot. But you two met, right?”
She barely glances at him, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off her. He’s leaning against a bookcase, but tilted ever-so-slightly forward. Toward her. Like he wants nothing more than to be in her orbit, but is anchoring himself to the shelf out of professional courtesy. Jet can’t make out the full conversation, but she hears something about elephants having a great memory, sees that Gianna is starting to talk, and Stabler is practically melting with each word that comes out of Benson’s mouth. His face softens, eyes watching her with something akin to pride. He doesn’t even bother hiding the fond smile that ghosts across his lips as he lets her take the lead.
Jet’s heard whispers about Benson and Stabler, what they were like as partners. She’s read his jacket because, well, she can. It’s not hard to get past the 1PP servers if you know what you’re looking for. She’s seen the write-ups, psych evals, the long history he’s shared with this woman. She noticed the six year gap between a squadroom shooting and his liaison job in Rome. She’s seen Stabler interrogate perps since joining OCCB, and questioning a six year old isn’t quite the same thing, but she thinks maybe he’s reliving the good old days when he had his partner by his side.
Benson moves to grab a chair, but Stabler beats her to it – “I’ve got it.”– and settles it in front of Gianna and her elephant. The captain is solely focused on the little girl across from her, doesn’t even acknowledge Stabler’s assistance, but he hasn’t looked away from her once.
Jet wonders if maybe Stabler is the one who keeps – kept? – Olivia Benson safe.
She glances at Bell, who also seems to be clocking everything Jet is, eyes dancing between the other adults in her office. Their eyes meet through the glass and Jet quickly looks away, feigning interest in a mug shot on the table next to her.
Gianna must give them what they want, because soon there is movement in Bell’s office. Benson finally looks over at Stabler, whose eyebrows quickly dart up in acknowledgement. She offers a half smile and nods, some unspoken language leftover from the old days.
“You did great, sweetheart,” she assures Gianna, reaching out to squeeze her hand and shake the limb of her stuffed animal.
Bell makes a quick exit with their witness, already barking orders into her cell as she heads for the exit. Stabler ushers the captain out of Ayanna’s office and down into the bullpen, his hand hovering behind her lower back.
“Liv, I’d like you to meet the crew.” He introduces her to Morales and Washburn, and she hangs back, leaning against a cement pillar to hold her up in the imminent seconds before she meets her idol.
“And this is Sloot. Our resident hacker.”
“Jet,” she quickly corrects, and takes the hand Captain Benson offers. She’s surprised yet again, because the woman’s grip is firm and for all outward appearances, she’s nothing but sharp edges, but the smile she gives Jet is warm. It’s genuine. And her hands are soft, her hair is perfectly curled, nails and makeup subtle but unabashedly feminine. She’s a riddle Jet wants to solve.
“Olivia. It’s really nice to meet you, Jet.”
This woman, this legendary NYPD captain, has undoubtedly been introduced to thousands of people, but the way she repeats Jet’s name – all of their names – makes it feel like it’s being committed to memory. Like anyone who is a part of Stabler’s world is someone she needs to know. Wants to know.
As the group continues to discuss the case, Jet hangs back, happy to go back to her role of observer. Stabler is actually looking directly at the others as he addresses them, while Benson manages to provide her thoughts without looking up from something she’s dealing with on her phone. Another crisis? Dinner plans? Hair appointment?
Morales is pacing, something that drives Jet nuts. He’s a vocal processor, always wanting to talk things out instead of keeping his thoughts contained to his own head until he’s sure. “Ballistics confirms that one of the vic’s guns from the Flatbush apartment matches the bullet that killed Felix Tinga, but there were no matches to the bullets recovered from your SUV. So who was that shooter?”
Benson looks up from her phone and meets Stabler’s eyes. This smile is genuine too, knowing. “Uncle K,” they say in one voice, and the two detectives quickly break ranks to follow up on this new piece of information. They miss it, but Jet doesn’t. There is a beat, a moment where she’s sure these partners have forgotten anyone else is here. Benson’s smile widens and Stabler’s eyes are, for lack of a better word, twinkling.
It’s that moment, before they lower their eyes and look around at anything but each other, that assures Jet she isn’t wrong about the person who will keep Olivia Benson safe.