Part Nine - Eva

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Old cases had been running through her mind for several days, no rhyme or reason why

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Old cases had been running through her mind for several days, no rhyme or reason why. Every case she had ever worked involving a child followed her around, but each one started to rise up inside of her like smoke, reuniting her with the low and quiet burning inside of her that came with every child case.

Maria Recinos. How had a nine-year-old victim manage to catch her off guard?

"Do you have children, Olivia?" her sweet and innocent little voice asked. A girl trapped in a room, completely emaciated from the lack of food or water, yet she cared enough to ask Olivia about her life. A little girl who had been to hell and back somehow asked her the most important question she had ever been asked in her entire life. She was just a child herself, children didn't usually ask those questions. Maria was special though, and Olivia swore she had felt her breath hitch in her chest when the question was asked.

"No," she had responded, hearing her heart physically breaking as the words left her lips.

"Don't you like them?" Maria had asked, sounding almost fearful that the one person on Earth who didn't have a doubt in her mind that she was a real girl in real trouble, might not even like children. She had continued the call despite Munch and Cragen continuously trying to convince her that it was a prank... and the innocence on the other line was so close to being afraid of something that was the least of her problems... whether or not the woman who was about to save her life even liked children.

"I love them. I would love to have a child." Olivia had answered almost too quickly.

"You wouldn't send her away, would you? Like my mother sent me?"

Dear God, no. Every joint that held her ribcage together burned at the thought. She had seen mothers sell their children for a Benjamin and a half a pack of menthol lights. She had seen girls no older than twelve working corners while their parents shot up and wandered off.

When her own self-consciousness started to take over, she tried to remember that. No matter how bad her genes were, half drunk and half rapist, seeing those children convinced her that she could never ever be that bad of a parent. No matter what, genetics would never have that much say in how she raised a child.

She loved children. She had been chasing motherhood for much longer than she'd ever hoped to.

Elliot had never failed to subtly instill his confidence in her over the topic of parenthood. Even when he was an ass who took his children for granted and called her out on their differing opinions about children, he never once made her feel as if she'd be a bad mother. Instead, he'd made eye contact, ice blue against dark brown, and spoke straight from his lungs with a passion she had never seen. "You're gonna make a great mother someday."

The certainty in his voice had always seemed to soothe her like calamine on a burn. It was a big statement coming from a family man such as himself. Sure, his marriage fell apart and he had some problems with his kids. But it was the fiery passion in his heart for his children that spoke for him instead. If Elliot Stabler, the man who would tear apart Hell for his children, believed she could be a good parent, she believed him. She believed only him. Hell, she'd believe him before she'd ever believe herself.

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