#and god forbid I ask for 10€ to afford anything. I'm going to get faces of annoyance

[momochiiee-reblogs]

Starting to feel the solitude of a house that is always full of people

The irony istg

[fluidityandgiggles]

Sleep Is For The Weak - Chapter 10

Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 5, Last Chapter

Writing Masterlist - for previous chapters not otherwise linked, Read on AO3

Notes (I guess): It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for! Well... I hope so...

Yeah, it took me a month to get this chapter on the road, but... I can’t really be blamed. Well, I can, but let’s be fair, I’m in India right now, I have almost no wifi and I’m mostly relying on data (I ran out of data while writing this and now have to wait forty minutes to get data again... oops...), I managed to get The Schmuel Song from The Last Five Years stuck in my head out of boredom, and really I planned to update much earlier but sometimes... chapters get stuck.

I’m sorry I’m updating this late... I hope the fact that this is the longest chapter yet A N D that something y’all have been waiting for is going to happen will make it up!

As always, all the thanks to @broadwaytheanimatedseries​ for the original idea, to @whatwashernameagain​ for her original story and for being such a sweetheart, and to @winglessnymph​, @asleepybisexual​ and @anony-phangirl​ for all their help, even if it’s just listening to my ideas and giving feedback (you’re all wonderful and I love you so much!)

Tag list (sort of):  @bunny222​, @ab-artist​, @secretlyanxiouspersona​, @your-username-is-unavailable​, @virgilcrofters​, @why-things-go-boom​, @ilovemyspoopydad​, @violetblossem​, @maybe-i-like-the-misery​

(Wanna be tagged? Just lemme know!)

Trigger warning: period appropriate transphobia (the early 00s were not exactly trans-friendly). This chapter is a bit lighter, but keep this in mind.

—————

Saturday, December 21st, 2002

Christmas at the Harris shoebox was never that festive to begin with.

There was always some sort of rush hour-type boost in sales on and off-Broadway, or at least that's how David explained it to Remy when he was younger, so he would only really be home if he only had matinees or if, God forbid, Christmas (either eve or day) fell on a Monday. And Remy was always busy with school, at first with his program in Columbia and then his project at Bronx Science and now…

Well, now was no different. Christmas Eve was going to be on a Tuesday, next Tuesday to be exact, and Remy was too busy reading ahead in his psychology books.

India dropped him off in Manhattan on her way to Johns Hopkins. They got out a day early to go from Boston to Manhattan - Remy didn't have exams that day anyway - and stayed over at Remy's overnight before the second half of the ride. "They", of course, also included India's girlfriend Jenna, who was the one driving. She was a wonderful human being and Remy honestly couldn't believe he never met her before. It felt like they knew each other for ages! (David wasn't happy when two twenty-something year olds crashed on his couch that Sunday night, without warning, but Remy told him they're leaving first thing in the morning. He still wasn't very happy at that, but maybe going with it was the best option here.)

"You know who I ran into on my lunch break today?" Remy raised his head and took off his reading glasses (he was starting to need glasses for more than reading…) to look at his father, who - at eleven forty-five at night - finally got home from tonight's show. "Come on, ask."

"Who did you run into on your lunch break, dad?"

"Do you remember Michelle Tan?"

Of course Remy remembered Michelle Tan. She took chemistry and engineering and always looked down on him as if learning psychology made him less than her. Not to mention that when he showed up to graduation with short hair - his first step towards socially transitioning, really - she kept saying the nastiest things to him about how inappropriate it was.

"What about her?"

"Nothing, she just asked how you're doing." David threw himself on the couch next to Remy, taking off his shoes and opening his shirt in the process. "I said that you're doing alright and that your degree was going okay."

"Oh. Okay."

"...that's all you're going to say? Oh okay?" Remy pulled his shoulders. What else was there to say, really? "Thought you'd be a bit happier that—"

"Dad, Michelle Tan is the one who came to me after graduation and told me that short hair is undignified and that just because I think it makes me more of a boy doesn't mean that I am. Do you really think I'd be that excited about you running into her on your lunch?"

"I didn't know. I had no idea."

"It's okay."

David was working on a new show by Tony Kushner. He promised Remy that he's not going to spoil anything to anyone this time (though let's be honest, he said that about Dancing At Lughnasa in 1991, and Rent in 1996, and…). He stayed out late for the workshop, and barely had any time to care for himself. He never did whenever a new show started.

Remy could forgive him for forgetting stuff.

However, this neglect was absolutely and utterly unacceptable.

"Can you take a day off tomorrow? I mean, it's just the workshop, I doubt Eliza would mind it if you didn't come." David hummed in agreement. "So it's decided. Tell Eliza you're not coming tomorrow. We're gonna, like… do absolutely nothing tomorrow. We'll go somewhere fancy, like that diner on—"

"Since when are pancakes fancy to you, Remy?"

"Since I don't get to eat them anymore because I don't have time and I'm not using boxed mixes, thank you very much!"

"We can go to Hard Rock Cafe."

"Dad, Hard Rock isn't fancy. Sorry to disappoint. I just want to go to Times Square, to be honest…"

And then he turned on the TV and put a recorded episode of South Park. And Remy gave up. He went back to his book, to remember the teacher who made them read Oedipus Rex in English class, to get pissed at Freud who said that all men secretly want to fuck their mothers and called it the Oedipus complex without even knowing (probably) that Oedipus didn't want to fuck his mother but the moment he found that out he stabbed his own eyes out and exiled himself, accompanied by his children, which prompted the start of Oedipus at Colonus and Antigone.

Remy always felt bad for Antigone. But that was a personal issue.

——

"Remy? Remy! Hey, Remy, I'm here, and you're here, and—"

These sort of calls have been going on since about five minutes after David paid for their lunch and he and Remy started making their way to the subway back home. They started right around the… Martin Beck theatre? Yeah, around there. Remy was kind of scared to turn around and look who that is, until his dad told him to, so he did.

Emile was dragging his older sister and her dog behind him and he was getting really close.

"I didn't know you'll be here right now!" Emile's face was flushed, hidden under the hood of his fluffy mustard yellow coat. His glasses were covered in raindrops and all fogged up.

He looked absolutely adorable.

"Sweetie, what are you doing here?" At the hurt face, Remy quickly added "I'm just curious, that's all. Did you bring Mycroft too?"

"Well… no, I didn't. Mycroft stayed home. I can't bring him on holiday vacations. Our neighbors are looking after him, though! They're very nice and they're technically his grandparents! Well, kinda. I got him from a litter their bunnies had. It's a long story. And we were at the Man of La Mancha matinee just now! Julie and I have tickets to The Lion King at seven, and my parents are going to The Full Monty. It's a holiday tradition!"

Well then… hmm…

"Oh, you haven't met my dad yet!" Emile almost started jumping. "You have to—"

Someone tapped on Remy's shoulder. "I thought we're going home, not talking to cute boys on the street?" David asked jokingly.

"Hello, sir! I'm—"

"That's Emile, Dad. He's a friend. I told you about him. And his sister Juliana."

"But she's buying books so we're going to wait for her!" The tiny blond said oh so excitedly. He could never not get excited, it seemed. Remy loved that about him.

"What did you say her name was?" At David's raised eyebrow, Emile started jumping even more.

"Juliana! Yoo-li-a-na. It's Dutch, not English. She's named after our great-grandmother who died in Auschwitz. It's a really sad story, if I do say so myself—"

"Munchkin, we gotta go." The aforementioned woman who just got out of the bookstore grabbed Emile's hand and gave it a short squeeze. Her accent was even harsher than Emile's, but… Remy couldn't complain. He heard her speak before. He met her before. "Remmington, nice to see you again."

"You too, Julie. And Ladybug." At the sound of her name, the dog started wagging her tail quite happily. Remy never got to see her off-duty, but he assumed that this was the closest he'll ever get to.

"Mom and Dad are waiting. You coming or what?"

As the three went away, Emile waving goodbye quite enthusiastically and lending his sister a shoulder to lean on (Remy only recently found out why he did), Remy struggled to find the words to explain to his dad what just happened.

Thankfully, he didn't ask. Instead, David said "so that's your boyfriend, huh?", took his hand and pulled him in the direction of the subway. They still had to get home today.

——

Monday, December 23rd

"So we're staying here until… I think the fifth," Emile rambled on the phone. Sure, it was eleven thirty already, but… free minutes were more important than proper sleep schedules. Not that either of them had any of those. "After that were going to Missouri, my dad is taking me to Glore, you know—"

"I have no idea what Glore is.”

"It's a psychiatric museum. And after that we're going to California! To Disneyland, and then the murder museum."

Emile kept rambling about his plans, and he was so loud, Remy could hear his dad tell him to quiet down a couple of times. He was just so excited, and it was always so endearing…

"So what I'm trying to say is," Emile rambled away. "Would you like to hang out sometime? We could go see a musical! Like, umm… Rent! We can go see Rent! I haven't seen the new cast yet… I heard that Jai Rodriguez is awesome though!"

"I don't know… I can't really afford that—"

"Nonsense! What do you have me for if not for this sort of thing?"

"Remy, either you hang up now and go to sleep so you can deal with your grandparents tomorrow," David grunted from the couch, where he tried to sleep, "or I do it for you."

"Alright, boo, how about the twenty-seventh?"

"Sounds good to me!"

"Okay. Good night, Em."

"Good night!"

Remy didn't tell Emile that he actually saw Rent off-Broadway before. And… didn't exactly like it. Maureen, the only bisexual, was presented as promiscuous and very selfish (though that might've just been her personality, he had no idea, Jonathan Larson died before he could ask him) and Angel, the only character he ever truly identified with - a gay, genderqueer drummer who is HIV+ - is really the only main character to die, leaving the most wonderful and wholesome relationship in the show broken and sad and with a bad ending, while the horribly dysfunctional Roger and Mimi - both also HIV+ - got to have a happy ending.

And really, what type of bullshit was that? Gays have already been so villainized in the media, Remy did not need another one.

But he'd go. Just to be with his best friend. He really wanted to.

"Are you ready for the ride to Jersey?" David asked jokingly. Neither of them was ever truly ready for the six-hour (at best) long ride on the interstate to Red Bank. David's parents were, to say the least, terribly nosy and had no tact. Adding to that the fact that his cousin Gilbert (his aunt and her husband had a terrible taste in names, Remy decided rather early in life) wasn't going to come home for Christmas from his boarding school in Nova Scotia, also known as the only sensible member of the family with whom Remy could actually hold a conversation would not be home for Christmas…

This holiday was going to be a disaster.

"Ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

——

Tuesday, December 31st, 2002; 9:54 p.m.

Christmas was horrible. But Emile made it better.

This was how Remy described the holiday on his call to India on the thirty-first.

"What I mean is… you know the feeling when your family is just so bigoted and— yeah, okay, I'm sure you know that feeling." India laughed on the other side of the phone. It made him feel… strangely better. "So, like… my family are horrible, okay. My grandparents are, like, the worst. My grandma can't stop sticking her nose in everyone's business, and like, usually it's fine, it's not that bad, but last week my cousin wasn't home so she had more criticism to give to everyone else so she chose to pick on my sexuality, and like—"

"Pick on your sexuality?"

"She literally said ‘why can't you just be who you were when you were sixteen, you may not carry the family name but you will continue the bloodline'—"

"What twisted mind would say something like that?"

"My grandma, sweetie. This is my grandma."

India actually laughed at that. Remy could hear confused sounds from the other side, which he assumed belonged to that Jackson kid she talked about a couple weeks ago.

"Is she also the type of person who would say that Jenna is a nursing student because she's black and a woman?"

"I wouldn't put it past her to act like Professor McKenna. But anyway. So that's my grandma, and my grandpa is… he's deaf and senile. You can imagine what that's like."

India hummed. "Sounds like a fun holiday."

"Well, after coming back Emile and I went to see Rent. I still hate that musical but it was fun to watch it with him. And my boyfriend only called once like, three days ago. And I mean, rude much?"

"I'll bet. I got to talk to my psychiatrist, and… guess what."

"I'm scared of guessing."

"I'm gonna get my first doses of blockers and estrogen real soon, if everything goes right." Remy tried to avoid the tightness in his chest. "I know, I know… you've been waiting for this too."

"Is it weird that I can't wait to get mine but I'm still scared of when you'll get yours?"

"No, absolutely not. I totally understand. We all have a fear of change, peach. Some of us more than others. But it's going to be such gradual change that you won't even think of it, okay? It's exactly how I explained it to Jackson. Even when I get top surgery, which will probably be the most dramatic change, it's not going to be such a big shock. I promise."

India had to end the call rather quick after that. Apparently some doctor needed to talk to her about some stuff, and he could hear her grit her teeth before saying her goodbyes - the doctor called her "Mr. McGinty" - so it must not have been good.

He had a… sort of date, with Emile, at Times Square later. His sister was going to this bar in Greenwich right after the ball drop, so until then, she said she'd chaperone - as if they needed one. But Nathalie had some rules and stuff so they had to have her around, or else.

Whatever that else would be.

"Dad, I'm going out!" A hum of agreement came from his dad's room. Okay then…

Remy got his bag and his phone, sent a quick text to Chris wishing him a happy new year - he probably wasn't going to see it until Remy pointed it out to him when they got back to Boston - and left.

(He probably should check on his dad, but he was going to be alright. Two and a half years sober now, and he had his cartoons. He was going to be okay.)

——

11:57:11 12 13 14... p.m.

"I'm cold!"

"You're from Minnesota, Emile."

"I don't see your point."

Emile was wrapped in his own yellow coat and Remy's black coat (well, one of his three black coats; this particular one he got on a trip to Disneyland when his dad worked on the national tour of some musical, he already forgot) and was still freezing. How in the…

"Do you want to go to Starbucks and get a hot chocolate?"

"Is Starbucks even open at this hour?"

"There's one on fifteen hundred. It's open twenty-four hours."

"...okay, fine." Remy offered his hand and Emile quickly wrapped his arm around Remy's, allowing him to lead the way.

1500 Broadway wasn't the closest to the ball, but Remy was sure that they could make it there and back.

Maybe it was a bit of wishful thinking, but he was going to be an optimist this time.

11:58:28 29 30 31… p.m.

"We never told Juliana that we're going," Emile muttered through chittering teeth. "My mom is going to be so mad—"

"Emile, babe, calm down. We're almost there."

The huge building was already in their line of sight, and Remy couldn't feel happier. He could totally use a latte right about now, and Emile obviously needed a hot chocolate and a cookie. The poor thing was seconds away from becoming a human icicle.

He didn't want to be responsible for his best friend suffering from hypothermia, after all.

"You see that huge building over there?" Remy couldn't make out if Emile was nodding under all his layers or what.

"What about it?"

"We're gonna go to Starbucks in there, okay?"

"You're an addict, you know that?"

Remy didn't listen. So he liked his Starbucks, so what.

He dragged Emile behind him.

11:59:38 39 40 41… p.m.

The line was moving awfully slow for some reason. Remy had no fucking idea why so many people were at Starbucks so close to the ball drop…

Well, he was being a bit of a hypocrite.

"Can we get something to eat too?" Emile whispered to him, standing on his toes. The black coat from Disneyland was back in Remy's possession. The building was warm enough.

"Sure, why not?"

"Thanks, sweetie!"

Sweetie. Holy shit

"Schmuel would work till half past ten at his tailor shop in Klimovich," Emile sang to himself. Remy remembered that song very well. Norbert Leo Butz had a very… interesting way of singing it.

Then again, he never heard anyone else sing it.

He would ask Emile where he heard that song later.

"Forty-one years had come and gone at his tailor shop in Klimovich—"

"Ten, nine, eight…" oh crap.

Remy grabbed Emile's shoulder, shutting him up momentarily. It took just a couple of moments for either of them to fully realize what was going on before—

They kissed.

If there were fireworks they were blinded by the fluorescent lights and deafened by the loud cheers all around them, but they still kissed.

Kissing his blond was very different from kissing his boyfriend. Not that it felt wrong or anything, just... different. Nothing forced, nothing too overpowering. It was lovely, and sweet, and Emile was as soft as always. Nothing felt wrong there.

Not even the little voice that said that Chris won't like it. He wasn't there. He didn't need to know.

And so, they kissed.

——

Wednesday, January 1st, 2003

00:17 a.m.

"You saw The Last Five Years?" Remy asked, a cup of latte warming his rather freezing hands as he walked Emile back to his hotel (Juliana left them to go to a party in Greenwich Village).

"I didn't go to school for anything but my exams from mid-April. I saw that musical so many times, I kinda lost count."

"Oh, okay. Cool."

[mileycfan4eva33]

Fandom: SVU

Title: Covenant From The Heart

Chapter 1: Violent Moment

P O V: Amanda Rollins

(A/N: Noah, Jessie, Billie do not exist in this fic. I own nothing except my ideas and original characters. All others belong to Wolf Entertainment and NBC.)

Saturday, June 2020

Christopher Street, New York, NY

"I hope you don't mind

I hope you don't mind

That I put down in words

how wonderful life is while you're in this world."

The radio plays as I sit inside the back of the Covenant House Van across from my Captain Olivia Benson, along with two trained Crisis Counselors from Covenant House, New York. Andrea O'Sullivan and Robert "Bobby J" Rodriquez. "Thanks for coming again with me, Amanda."

My smile is tight as I look back at Olivia there is a sadness in her eyes as we turn towards each other. "You're welcome, Liv, did Kat give any reason as to why she couldn't make it tonight?" "her mom has to work a double, and they couldn't find a babysitter last minute on a Saturday."

"Yeah, I hear that could be hard." Olivia sips her coffee, trying to keep warm. "I never mind helping Captain. Covenant House is such an amazing place Olivia, I'm always happy to volunteer for whatever they need."

"Thank you, detective Rollins we try. It isn't easy when we have 20,494 youth who are homeless." Andy's statement sends tremors down my spine. I try to hide the fact that I am shivering, as a cop, I knew those statistics. The number of homeless children in the United States is at its highest in more than a decade.

I can even break down the statistics that roughly 800,000 children are reported missing each year in the United States that's 2,000 kids who go missing every day in the USA. There are 115 child stranger abduction cases, LGBTQ youth represent as much as 40% of the homeless youth population. Between 1.6-2.8 million youth runaway each year in the United States. Children can begin running as young as ages 10-14. The youngest are the most at-risk for the dangers of street life.

Too many people take the attitude of Children who runaway make their own decisions to go. Let them be, they've made their personal choice and must deal with the consequences. If they want to come home, they will. That is so wrong because once these kids hit the streets, they have hours of reaching an inner-city before they become targets for these pimps. Once the pimps get their hands on these kids, they no longer have a choice. They are property of those pimps, and these monsters would take a bullet before they lose their 'product.' It is estimated that many young people, especially girls, begin engaging in survival sex within 48 hours of leaving home. Sex for food and a place to stay can quickly escalate into formalized prostitution.

I've seen what happens to those kids after becoming branded; they learn quickly to harden themselves and trust no one. The treacherous environment in which they must learn to survive is heartbreaking. They do not always outwardly present as sympathetic victims. They also frequently suffer from short–term and long–term psychological effects such as depression, self-hatred, and feelings of hopelessness. These child victims also need specialized services that are not widely available given they often have illnesses, drug addictions, physical and sexual trauma, lack of viable family and community ties, and total dependence—physical and psychological—on their abusers.

"Amanda, do you want some coffee?" "no, thanks, Liv, I'm good." "Sure you are; that's why I can see those goosebumps on your arms, Rollins." Olivia's left-hand grazes across my left arm, which she has now caused to go stiff in fear. Olivia's touch, smile Liv has no idea how she effects me.

Every hair is standing at attention, my heart racing, face flushed. My brain stutters to find words to respond to Olivia. It should be simple to say those words to tell Olivia how I feel; this is 2020, not 1990. I shouldn't be afraid of rejection to tell someone I have a deep crush on that I have a crush. I've told more than a half of a dozen women in my past that I liked them. I am not ashamed to identify as a lesbian.

Which brings me to question why I haven't confided in anyone I have worked with over the past nine years. Swallow Amanda, just swallow and relax. Olivia has no idea how you feel; she isn't asking you to spill how you feel. She's asking you for a drink stop freaking out you'll look like a fool.

"No, I'm good save the coffee for the kids, they need it more than I do. I'm okay."

"Detective Rollins we have more than enough." that's a lie I know before it even escapes Andy's lips she's just being nice to us since it's rare for cops to volunteer to do ride a long's, the department does not sanction them. 1PP truthfully goes out of their way to discourage us from doing them because they are so dangerous because these pimps could recognize one of us and blow our covers in the future. Sometimes I think they fear we will become too sympathetic with a homeless kid because God forbid NYPD cops be human and understand what life on the streets is actually like; we might let these kids go when indeed we are forced to pick them up for simply trying to stay alive.

Saturday nights are one of the busiest nights in New York City, especially for the homeless population in our impact zones. Turning down Bleeker Street, which is alive with nightclubs blaring music. Flashing neon signs obnoxiously calling out $2 dance bars—other signs signaling their bars, clubs, stores. Panhandlers line every corner, many with bloodshot eyes, sniffling noses, and scanning the crowd from our blackened windows. I can see swindlers working in pairs trying to rob the tourists who unsuspectingly stroll among them the glittering, neon buildings. Many are walking with cell phones out, looking for directions.

Olivia and I both exchange a look knowing half of them will be robbed. There's so much we both want to say but don't. Drug deals go down in plain sight to the untrained eye. It would be easily missed, in between the blaring lights and smells of Colombian bakeries, beauty salons, Mexican restaurants, and bars like the Gentlemen's Club advertising beautiful female dancers. People along this stretch of road hand out business cards emblazoned with half-naked women or fruits and flowers all that advertise "Free Delivery" and typically list the hours of operation between 10:30 a.m. and 2:30 a.m. It's a cover, of course, the cards are marketing tools of brothels that have set up shop inside private homes and apartments.

As the hour is growing later, the tourists are fading away; the clubs are starting to shut down, and the other Christopher Street, the one never mentioned in magazines, or featured on the nightly news and morning talk shows comes alive. This is our Christopher Street teens strutted past in the dark, often stopping to air kiss, catcall, or sometimes brawl.

Young LGBTQ youth in platform thigh-high boots, buttocks-revealing denim shorts, red-pleather boleros with matching caps and tops of the backless, sleeveless, or even frontless variety, those on the nightly parade here do anything but hide. They compete for best outfit, /best moves in nightly dance battles that rage beside the Hudson River to the sound of a boombox on the pier at the end of the street.

The teens are beautiful, but the night-life here is ugly, violent, and scary; the teens themselves often fight turning violent. Customers drunk throw glasses, bottles, or try to take the girls, ripping hair out, beating them. Not every person working is trying to cause problems; of course, there are many just trying to get by to pay rent that now topples over $3,000. I can barely afford my apartment in Brooklyn with my salary.

Cops are lining every street, but we are not here as cops Olivia and I are riding with the covenant house team to help them reach the kids whoa re too afraid to find Covenant House or don't know that help exists. We are reaching to find kids who need food, warmth, and shelter. We provide sandwiches, beverages, ears to the kids if they are ready to tell their stories.

In the van we provide education about sex, pregnancies, STD prevention, we give them condoms. We let them cry, scream, ask questions, or sit in silence; we let the kids choose what they need when they need it. Many have never been given a choice of anything in their lives. We gain the kids' trust and, when ready, we will get them to our crisis shelters, where they're given love and support to permanently stay off the streets. Some stay only a few days and decide they aren't ready to give up the life they know. They have to be willing to be drug-free and make other commitments to stay at Covenant House. Some, however, remain with Covenant House and complete the whole program.

Frequently it takes multiple interactions before the kids will trust those of us on the outreach team enough to accept our offers of help they've simply been burned by adults too many times in their lives.

"So Captain Benson, my boss tells me you've been coming on these rides along's since you joined SVU in 1999. Any specific reasons?"

Andy's question perks my interests in the nine years I have known Olivia; I have never known the answer to this question myself. For the first six years, when I went on these outreach trips, I never knew she went along. I only found out three years ago when we were paired together by accident on a night when they had more volunteers than vans. I never asked myself for fear of having to answer the same question back; it's a part of my past. I have kept hidden for many years. I have no intention of starting to share that story now.

"I was on the job about two months with Special Vics when we came across the case of a fourteen-year-old girl who we had to arrest for selling drugs to her classmates, sometimes in exchange for sexual favors. The whole Squad called her Spoiled Sally because she came from the upper west side, went to a private school. She had all the advantages of a rich kid, yet she chose to squander her life by selling drugs."

"You thought there was more to her story though, Olivia, didn't you?"

"You know me well, Amanda." Olivia has no idea how well I know her how I have spent my whole adult life, and most of my teens years studying her career trying to be half the cop she is. Olivia has no idea that I listen to every conversation hoping to gather a new detail I didn't know already. I know her favorite, color, movie, TV show, her worst fears, her dreams. I know which ice cream flavor she likes best, her favorite spot for ice cream, who her favorite baseball team is, and which sport she hates the most. I know Olivia uses vanilla body lotion but hates vanilla ice cream.

My body shivers despite being June. The temperature is dropping fast the later it gets. "I did think there was more, so I started investigating further. Interviewing her friends, teachers, classmates. Came to learn Sally transferred schools six times over the last year, she had moved from city to city since she was six years old."

Olivia bites her lower lip as she laughs slightly "Amanda you'll love this part, my boss told me to drop it, or he would transfer me, I couldn't drop it, I defied his orders and kept digging. I matched her picture into enhanced facial recognizing came to discover our Spoiled little Sally was Marcella Marginals, a kidnapped girl from Mexico who vanished at age six when her family was on vacation over there. They let go of her hands for two minutes, and she was snatched. Marcella was smuggled into different cities by different men. Who caged her up like an animal beat her raped her, sold her from family to family."

"This last family was an elderly couple who never had kids of their own; the man who sold her to them kept weekly checks on her forced her to sell drugs for him. Raped her weekly to keep her in-line raped the wife weekly to keep the parents quite. When we went to collect Marcella, the bastard was there raping the wife, the husband an 82-year-old man who could barely move was tied to the chair. A battle broke out between the police and the pimp, Marcella was shot in the battle, by my gun. I was devastated. I felt as if it was my fault if I had left it alone, as my boss told me. Marcella would be alive no matter how hard her life was, at least she drew breath. Because of me, that sweet girl was dead."

"All my co-workers kept telling me it wasn't my fault; it was just part of the job. I had to accept it as God's plan. I couldn't though, I mean, how did God see that to be fair? How could any God justify a fourteen-year-old girl being raped, beaten suffering every day as okay?"

"So I headed to my favorite bar to get there I had to pass the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, I wasn't raised in any dominant religion growing up, but I felt drawn to it. I felt like I needed to talk to God, to let him know how angry I was at him."

"At first, all I could do was sit there, staring at the candles, the altar, tears running down my face. I have no idea how long I sat there for; till I felt the gentle touch of Sister Mary Rose McGeady, she sat by me and listened to me. Then she said something to me that has stayed with me my whole life; she replied ours is not to ask God why; ours is simply to close our eyes and listen to our hearts, and believe God always has a reason why. It's hard at times, but I made a promise to God to listen; he has to lead me to my calling to help kids on the street, his kids."

"As you know at the time, Sister McGeady was the president of Covenant House from 1990-2003. She took me to the house and showed me the center; I spoke to counselors, volunteers, and the kids themselves. I fell in love with the mission, with the kids the staff. I knew I had to try to make a difference."

"I started doing the outreach van around 12 years ago, at first, it was just because it was always so short-staffed, not many people volunteer to do something so dangerous. Then it became another passion for me."

I reach over and take Olivia's hand "you know Marcella's death wasn't your fault, Liv. No more than Easter's was mine."

"I know Amanda, up here, I know that." She points to her head, "But in here." Olivia's hand moves to her heart. "that takes reminding I am sorry I couldn't comfort you after telling you about Easter, I should have held you talked to you instead of getting up and walking away. The memories of that day hit me so hard; I think I am moving on, and then I am hit with a wave of guilt so intense it takes my breath away."

"Liv, it's okay. I needed my Captain than you did what I needed. You gave me time to cry, scream you stayed in the room, so I knew you were there, but you gave me privacy. No one can take someone else to pain away. But having you in that room brought me comfort."

Olivia smiles at me as Bobby J speaks "You two should come Tuesday for our annual Sleep-out for Covenant House, we have a line-up of stars who are performing and over 1,000 people who have signed up to raise money for our kids by sleeping out."

"Yeah, sounds good, Amanda?" "I'm in for sure."

"So Miss southern sweet tea, what is your story? I know you got one." My body tenses at his suggestion I feel all eyes on me my heart races as my stomach twists. How am I suppose to get out of this one? "Don't be bashful to spill your game." Bobby J nudges me as I fight to keep my nausea from spilling out onto the van's floor. If Olivia knew the truth, she would never look at me the same ever again.

"Help me!" Loud, intense screams ricochet off the buildings in the side-street where we are parked; a young girl comes racing out of the cover of darkness shadow. So fast her legs stumble, but she doesn't allow herself to fall; she can't she's running for her life. Those skinny legs barely hold her body up, yet she hurls herself forward, never glancing back. I can hear her heavy breathing as she approaches "not here." she points to two streets over. Eyes glance at us. I see the pain and fear "My man he's watching he'll see me get in, I'm dead then, he'll know where to find me."

She's gone in a flash, hurling her skinny body down the side streets in a race for her life, dodging into different avenues. The van squeals to life as our driver Michelle steps on the gas, the girl's arms pump flying as she dodges cars, people she isn't quitting or playing. It's pitch black out here now except the glow of a few broken street lights.

Michelle flips off our headlights as we reach the street the girl wanted us to, we sit in silence the radio shut off now. Our heartbeats are the only sounds slowly. I get out my legs a little shaky from being crouched in a van for hours. Olivia follows me closely behind as seconds tick into minutes both of us praying her man as she called him didn't find her, which we know damn well means her pimp. Rustling has us both turning around I spot her first she comes running full speed towards us, fooling her pimp she had run around the block twice; New York blocks ain't no joke either, they are long.

This girl is in eight-inch heels her feet must hurt so bad I feel tears well up I can barely walk in those types of heels nerve mind run. The girl is only twenty- yards away from us. I can see the depth of fear in her cyan blue eyes. An ocean deep of pain she is so close to safety just within feet of being saved Olivia and I are both tense ready to grab her up. The squeals of tires alert us to a sense of danger; I don't think twice I take off "Rollins!" Olivia yells as I pump my legs harder than they have ever been pumped before. Hoping that this girl can see it in my eyes that she can trust me, she can reach better days if she reaches out, allows me to take her hands. Gets in this van with me, I can help her find the sunshine behind these rainy days. Sometimes one person can make a difference. I close my eyes every day I pray I can be that person.

My hands reach the girl at the very last second my lungs are screaming in pain, I can barely breathe my muscles are straining with every-step. "Grab my hands, don't let go no matter what I got you." My arms wrap around the girl's frail body as my feet make a sudden turn burning my heels. I pull her body racing to the van as doors fly open. "Rollins, get down!" Olivia screams as a hail of bullets rain down on us I push the girl into the van slam the door and bang on it. Michelle takes off my legs give out as I crash to the ground Olivia is returning fire. I can't breathe or think my legs are twitching in pain I can feel my blood filling my mouth as I start to cough.

I can't seem to focus on anything. Every breath is harder to inhale and exhale. "Amanda, it's Olivia we've got to move, they took off, but they'll be back we just cost them a major investment. Can you move at all?"

Olivia's arms lift me pain stabs me at every angle it's mild though so after a few breaths I can put pressure on my legs she doesn't let go of my arm though pulling me along with her as we race to meet the van a few blocks over. Sweat pours down my body as my stomach cramps I feel flushed. I'm losing blood I can feel how weak I am, but I have no idea where or how serious it is. "Amanda that was stupid as hell, we are off-duty you know the department does not cover any injury you get, any action you take as a citizen which means you face the same charges they face. No union rep to cover for you."

"Yeah, I know Liv, and it also means I don't have to play by the rules."

"Amanda, it doesn't mean you get to risk your life."

"It's mine to risk Olivia, and if you ain't willing to risk your life, why are you out here?"

"Uh! Why are all the bad-asses so damn stubborn!"

"That's what makes us hot."

"Yeah, I know that's why the bad-asses like you are always the one who looks the most fuckable."

My ears ring did Olivia Benson just say she wanted to what with me? I stop moving physically, yet my Vertigo didn't get the message. I can't speak all I can do is stare at Olivia, watch her long legs so muscular her statuesque frame so lean and beautiful, long dark hair loosely held back with a decorative clip. Her appearance takes my breath away. She smiles as she slowly moves us towards the van.

All I can do is picture her lying on top of me on her bed as she places her mouth over my clit. A direct hit, her gorgeous lips closing around it and lapping at it with her tongue. Her hands hold my hips as I try to buck against her face; she is a master at getting me off like this. I can feel an orgasm building in my walls, I can feel the heat rising as I writhe under her face, and just as she is about to push me over the edge, she inserts a single slender finger inside as she does I feel the first wave of fire rising and spreading through me. I come hard onto her hand as she rapidly pumps two fingers in and out while she sucks on my clit.

"Amanda, move!" My head peaks up from the daydream of Olivia, and I making love seconds too late as the car comes speeding towards us headlights as bright as the Georgia summer sun. Michelle rushes towards us, Andy and Bobby J throw open the doors. "Get in!" Olivia's hands push my body into the van's. I feel Andy and Bobby grab me pulling my limp body up as Olivia screams at Michelle. to"Go."

Wait, where is Olivia going? Why didn't she get in with me? Gunfire fills the air as I try to stand but am thrown back against the wall hard as Michelle takes off, tires squealing. "Calvin!" I hear Olivia's scream as my head slams into the floor, sending me crashing into a world of blackness. All I can do is pray; God keep Olivia safe.

A/N: For More information on how you can help Covenant House and Homeless Youth visit their website

Our Youth deserve a kinder, better world than the one we have today. Let us commit to building this world together. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13643440/1/Covenant-From-The-Heart