Work Header


Work Text:

She sighs in frustration, glancing at side mirror, then at the car beside her. It makes no indication to move. The continuous flickering of the cursor only serves as fuel to her annoyance. She sighs again and taps the wheel sideways, moving the car to the edge of the lane. Still the car does not move. If anything, it stays stubbornly in line with her. A quick glance in the rear-view mirror tells her that she would be flattened by a semi if she slows down. Leaving only one option, she speeds up, cutting in front of the stubborn car. No sooner than she does, the patterned flashing of blue and red lights fills her back windscreen. Cursing inwardly, she indicates right, pulling over into the emergency lane. A sharp tap at her window causes her to jump slightly. She winds down the window, only to look straight into the blinding light of a police-issued flashlight. She blinks rapidly, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"License and registration, ma'am," the deep voice behind the light says. She passes over her papers, shivering as the cool evening breeze hits her bare arms. "Exit the vehicle, ma'am." She groans lightly, but complies, struggling to stand with her extended stomach. She wobbles ever-so slightly as she moves away from the car, but it is enough to be noticed by the beady eyes of the beat cop.

"You been drinking, ma'am?" he asks, gruffly. She rolls her eyes, but manages to answer.

"No." The beat cop snorts in disbelief but gestures to the four cadets emerging from the car.

"Search the car," he orders one pair, a male and female. To her, he growls, "Lean against the car, legs spread." She stares at him for a moment until he makes a move towards her. Quickly, she places her hands atop of the roof, legs spread awkwardly. She hopes she wouldn't have to stand here long. Dissatisfied, the cop kicks her feet further apart, throwing her completely off balance. The child in her womb protests heavily, shifting restlessly.

"Shh," she murmurs, moving a hand her her stomach. A meaty hand shoots out and grabbing her wrist, forcing it back atop of the car. "Hey," she protests. He ignores her, proceeding to pat her down. Not pat, she thinks. What he was doing was almost abuse. He continues to feel her, lingering too long on her breasts and stomach. One hand between her thighs, the other forearm across her shoulders, he stops.

"This is how we check for weapons," he spits in to her hair. She manages not to shudder, and looks over at the remaining cadets. The girl refuses to look at her, face flushed red, visible even in the dim lighting. The guy, on the other hand, is staring straight at her, amusement written all over his features.

"She's got a gun," calls the second guy from inside the vehicle. He hold up her SIG from inside the glove-compartment.

"Well, well, well, good find, O'Brien. Kelley, Fredericks, join O'Brien in the bitch's car. Peterson, you're with me." Her eyes widen at this.

"Hey, I'm a cop," she announces with great dignity. He raises an eyebrow at her.

"I don't see any evidence of a badge," he says with false innocence.

"That's cos it's in my bag. Look, my partner's in hospital. How long's this going to take?" She successfully keeps her temper and the emotion from her voice. He shrugs, meaty shoulders rising and falling with indifference.

"Not my problem." He turns away, but keeps the pressure on her shoulders. Her body is beginning to ache and her child has become more restless. Suddenly, she jerked to standing point, the release of pressure off her shoulders causes her to fall against the car. She rubs her belly, hoping to soothe the child within. It works slightly but her body still aches fiercely. Spinning around, she glares at the beat cop. He holds up her badge with her identification without a hit of embarrassment or sheepishness upon his face. Without an apology, he tosses them back into her car, gestures to the recruits- none of who look at her now; and starts the vehicle, barely waiting for the doors to shut before taking off down the highway. Mumbling curses beneath her breath, she follows suit, albeit at a slower pace.

Thirty minutes later, she is sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, one hand feverishly rubbing her belly, the other clasped tightly within her partners. She twists around and glares up at the freakishly tall Munch, who is nursing his own wounds. His partner, the even-tempered, dark-skinned Fin stares at them all in amusement.

"How?" is all she asks.

"Baseball bat," her own partner- in more ways than one, answers, a sheepish look upon his face. She rounds her glare upon him, but for his credit, he manages not to flinch. "Hey, Liv. I'm okay. Just bruised, is all." Her glare softens.

"I know, but I'm still mad at you. At the both of you." She rounds on Munch again, brown eyes steeled. He cowers, but she ignores him, proceeding to tell Elliot about the beat cop. He looks outraged but doesn't say anything when she mentions she's already told their captain. He believes her when she says she isn't hurt but still looks her doubtfully, placing a still hand upon her moving one.

"The little one restless?" he asks, rubbing his own hand around in calm circles. She nods then grimaces. Unbeknown to the couple, Fin and Munch slip out, leaving the two in privacy.

"I think I also might be in labor," she admits. His eyebrows rise. Thumbing the 'Call Nurse' button, he continues rubbing in circles, and explains calmly to the nurse what it going on.

Four and a half hours later, a small cry erupts, filling the room with a joyous sound, relieving the tension of all those in it. He stares down at his partner, best friend and girlfriend, a silly grin plastered upon his face. She blinks tiredly, exhausted but happy.

Three days later, she lays wrapped in his arms, a small bundle laying in her own. She stares down in satisfaction at the baby in her arms. She has always wondered what their genes would look like together and now she knows. The phones rings quietly off to the side, but strangely it does not interrupt their peace.

"Hello?" he answers the phone. He hmms and ahhs, then places down the phone as quickly as it was answered. "That was Cragen. Officer Tucker has been suspended without pay, pending a full investigation. Apparently, you were the last straw." He kisses the top of her head.

"Good," she murmurs, still staring down at the baby they created.

Matthew Cooper Benson-Stabler, they name him. Matty, for short.