To say that Olivia Benson was content with her life was a bit of an understatement, but nonetheless she was comfortable. She was happy with her job, pleased, for the most part, with her relationships, and at ease with what she had accomplished in her life. The only downside was that, while she knew she had people who cared for her, she wanted a child.

Conceiving naturally, of course, was a bit of a problem, and in vitro hadn't worked. She had applied to formally adopt, but a rough, single, overworked Sex Crimes detective wasn't exactly prime mommy material. Becoming a foster parent would take a lot of energy and time, too, not to mention the potential conflict of interest. Nonetheless, she had applied and interviewed to be a foster parent, but so far she had heard nothing back.

So…she was at a slight rut. But she was content. There was no way for her to know her life was gonna change, drastically.

XXXXX

It was a Friday, at lunchtime. Their case had wrapped that morning, so barring any emergencies their afternoon would be spent in the pen doing paperwork. Their lunch, Chinese, had been delivered, and for the first time in a while there was an easy banter between her and Elliot. The mood was light and happy, to the point where they didn't notice a girl being frog-marched into the pen by an older, tired looking woman.

Elliot would've called the girl a punk, but Olivia sensed something different. Yes, her shoes, stockings, and oversized sweatshirt were black, but her white tank top and white/black/silver plaid pleated skirt suggested something else. To Olivia, she looked more depressed then punk. The woman who was with her was in a tan business suit, and looked out of place next to the young girl. The girl had a hardened, wary gaze and when Olivia saw the older woman's no-nonsense frown she stopped laughing and stood up.

"Hi, my name is Detective Benson, how can I help you?" she asked, and for a moment the girl looked up from the ground and looked her over cautiously.

"Can we talk in private?" the older woman requested, and instantly the girl's gaze fell to the floor.

Olivia nodded and led them into the interview room, watching as the pair settled themselves down. Once seated, the older woman pulled out a business card and handed it to her.

"My name is Vera Prescott, I'm a social worker with ACS in Queens. This is Eleanor, my oldest case. Eleanor, would you like to explain why we're here?"

"My name's Ellie, not Eleanor," the girl responded darkly. "And I don't see why I need to do this."

"Fine. If you won't, I will," Vera snapped. "Miss Benson, our records indicate that Eleanor, excuse me, Ellie, is your half-sister. With the death of her last foster mother and your application, we feel that you should be awarded custody of her."

"Half-sister? I was an only child," Olivia insisted.

"According to our records, Eleanor's birthmother is Serena Benson and she was born in 1992. That would make you about…"

"Twenty eight years old when I was born," Ellie supplied dully. "I did the math in the car."

"But my mother would've been about fifty," Olivia said.

"A logical assumption is that your mother did not want to raise another child and instead of abortion decided to carry Ellie to term, name her, and give her away," Vera explained. Olivia was disturbed by the carelessness in the way that the social worker was able to dismiss what had happened to Ellie, but for some strange reason the girl didn't seem to care.

"But I don't know the first thing about…." Olivia trailed off.

"Nonsense. The state cleared you and here we are. Eleanor, go get your things from my car, please."

The girl took the car keys offered to her and disappeared out the door. Nervously, the detective looked at the social worker.

"Ms. Prescott, I don't know the first thing about living with a teenager, much less a girl who is apparently related to me. I don't know if I can do this."

"Please, just try. A month is all I ask for. If, by my check-in then, you and Eleanor are both unhappy I will place her in a group home. She's a lifer, she understands that some homes just don't work out. She's just in a rough place right now and a group home might not be the best place," Vera said.

"Rough place?" repeated Olivia, and just as Vera went to answer her phone chimed.

"I'm sorry, I really must be going. I have to facilitate a visit between an alcoholic and her nine-year-old."

Vera stood up and left the conference room and before Olivia knew what was happening Vera had taken back her car keys and Ellie was standing in the middle of the precinct holding a small duffel bag and a trash bag.

To complete the total craziness, Elliot took one look at the girl and asked, "Who're you?"

XXXXX

So…this is my new fic! I hope you all enjoy it, and if you think this is completely nuts tell me. I really want to know what you all think. As always, read, review, not mine, you get it by now. Also, I'm looking for a fic where Elliot and Olivia get abducted and are forced to sleep with each other. The story shows the trial of their captor and I can't remember the title. Any help would be appreciated!