A Gay Vibe From Me?

Chapter 1

Lieutenant Olivia Benson's long limbs are splayed out all over the couch in her apartment; she is clad in a wrinkled, loose tee shirt and a blue pair of boy shorts. A crisp, winter wind whips against the large windows, threatening to shatter the strong glass at any moment now. The brunette has been awake for over an hour, but hasn't been able to motivate herself to move even an inch. It's just past the crack of dawn on this dreary Saturday morning, Olivia silently curses herself for failing to sleep in yet again, as she has just awoken in a panic stemming from another nightmare about William Lewis, her jaw still aching from grinding her teeth all night long. She scrubs her face in an attempt to rub the exhaustion out of her eyes with no luck. The sleepy woman reluctantly lifts her head from one of her stiff throw pillows and averts her gaze up through the windows and toward the sky, where she is immediately greeted with the sight of small snowflakes dizzying around, like materials in a shaken snow globe.

"Ugh," she mutters quietly to herself, as she softly places her head back down onto the pillow, loose dark strands of soft hair littering its surface area, and tightens the cocoon of multiple fuzzy blankets around her quivering body to protect her from the seemingly never-ending frigidness of winter in the city.

She is exhausted in every sense of the word: physically, mentally, and emotionally. Her case load at work has been at an all-time high lately, or so it seems; nightmares are keeping her awake when she should be slumbering peacefully; to top it off, it has been less than a week since her historically unpredictable and chaotic ex-lover, Brian Cassidy, showed up to her apartment in the middle of the night, wasted and hiding from the police in fear of being accused of murdering a rapist. As if all of this wasn't enough, Cassidy had admitted to Olivia that she was the great love of his life, which had her completely taken aback; she enjoyed spending time with Cassidy, but it was far from love. Shortly after his confession, Cassidy flat-out asked her to admit that she was never going to "bare her soul" to him, and that's why it didn't work out between the two of them.

Cassidy was right, and Olivia let him know that. She cannot fathom "baring her soul," whatever that means, to him. In fact, she can't imagine herself opening up to any man in that way anymore; the only man she would have let have every piece of her was Elliot Stabler, who, to put it simply, shattered her young and naïve heart. So much has changed since he left; the pain has finally healed as much as it ever will. As Olivia continues to reflect, she realizes how much time and energy she has spent chasing the wrong men, desperately trying to fill the massive hole that resides deep inside of her chest. As of late, she is positive she doesn't want to be with another man for very long time—maybe even forever. As soon as this thought ends, an image of Amanda Rollins, the youngest detective on her squad, slams itself into her brain. The lieutenant is instantly greeted with a wave of nausea that is rapidly climbing up her throat. She mentally banishes the image of her younger, blonde, toned, quirky, funny, brilliant, but also infuriating, stubborn, bratty, dramatic detective from her mind as she swallows the foul-tasting bile. Amanda Rollins has given Olivia more headaches within the past few years than anyone else combined; yet for some reason, she finds herself yearning to be closer to her. Olivia shivers with fear, still working to banish the unwanted thoughts, and reminds herself that she is dedicated to work; she is dedicated to giving all of the love she has in her heart to the victims she deals with on a daily basis. They are the ones who deserve her soul.

It is nearing 8 am now, and Olivia decides she needs to get ready for the day, even though she doesn't have any plans. She sloppily removes her lower limbs from the cushions, and places her cold feet onto the even colder hardwood floor. After almost toppling over with sleep-deprivation as she makes her way to the bathroom, she catches a glance of herself in the mirror. The deep stains of purple underneath her eyes, her unruly, untweezed eyebrows, and oily skin are enough to make the bile she had previously forced down threaten to make a reappearance. "Jesus," she remarks. She cups her hands together underneath the tap and splashes some icy water onto her already frozen face, wincing at how hard the cold bites her.

Not wanting to be in front of a mirror for any moment longer than absolutely necessary, Olivia hurriedly decides to swish some mint-flavored mouthwash around in her mouth for a few seconds, strangles her hair up into a messy bun, and then resorts to her bedroom to change into some yoga pants and a comfortable sweater. As if she doesn't have enough restlessness coursing through her system, she feels her heart come to a halt when she realizes her tiny, gold bar necklace isn't around her neck. She scrambles to locate the item, knocking over the alarm clock on her nightstand as a result. The frenzied older woman speedily recalls that she took it off before showering last night. Her jaw instantly unclenches as she pinpoints the object lying on top of her unorganised dresser. She runs the chain through her hands for a moment as if savouring the memories and the sense of peace it contains before tracing the engraved word, "FEARLESSNESS," across her fingertips.

She finds herself wishing she wasn't alone while feeling like this, her companion need not even be human but maybe a cat or dog would do just fine. She quickly washes this thought from her mind, however, and reality sets in: she is far too busy and not home enough to take good care of a furry friend.

The sun is struggling to peek through the snowy clouds as the older woman pours herself a bowl of Cheerios and a cup of coffee. She settles down at the kitchen table, The New York Times in front of her, reading glasses perched atop of her nose, and her feet, now covered with fuzzy socks, resting comfortably upon a parallel chair. She feels the lingering anxiety slowly fading away as she delves into the "Arts" section of the paper, not even bothering to take a look at the local or world news today.

Her momentary release from anxiety is quickly interrupted as soon as she hears her iPhone vibrate; alerting her that she has a text message. Her shoulders clench up high toward her ears and the nervousness floods back into her bones as she glances at the words flashing across the screen: 1 iMessage from Amanda Rollins.