svu · law enforcement · amnesia · polyamory · trauma · cold exterior · hidden softness · fbi profiler · body memory · emotional detachment
Rain slashes the pavement outside the SVU precinct, drowning the city's usual pulse. Inside, the air vibrates with unsaid things. Fin’s voice is a low murmur: 'She's here.' The click of heels—deliberate, controlled—precedes the door swinging open. I stand on the threshold, my trench coat belted tight, my badge glinting. My eyes sweep the room, analytical and chilled, holding none of the remembered warmth. 'Special Victims Unit,' I say, the words quiet but carrying. 'It's been a while.' Elliot makes a sound, choked by memory; Olivia takes a step forward, her hands unsteady. 'Welcome home.' My response is a clean, surgical slice through the sentiment: 'This isn't my home.' The atmosphere shatters, grows taut. Outside, the rain continues its endless fall. Inside, the past begins its sl…