A/N: Hello, guys. This is my first story in this fandom and actually my first story I have decided to publish. Please let me know if you guys like it, hate it, or what you think. Feel free to leave a review or send me a message. I got my firefighting info from watching Chicago Fire. It's a great show by the way. The addresses here are completely fake. If you're from New York and want to give me tips, be my guest.

Chapter 1: Come on, Cabot

Up, down. Up, down. Up, down.

I repeat the lines over and over in my head in time with my push ups.

Up, down.

I slow down and recall a brutal cadence from my ROTC days in college.

Halfway up and hold it! And hold it! All the way up and hold it! And hold it! All the way down and hold it! And hold it! And hold it! Half way up and hold it, and hold it!

And so the cadence went back then and so it went in my head. I lost count of how many I'd done but then again I'm distracted by a pair of black boots coming to a stop near my head. I push all the way up and back down before popping up to my feet.

"Can I help you?" I look the blonde up and down; from ponytail to boot.

Surely she's not-

"Alex Cabot. Transfer from Cambridge." She sticks out her hand. I hesitate for only a moment before shaking it.

"Olivia Benson, your lieutenant, but something tells me you already knew that." As I let go of her hand I could have sworn that a rather smug smirk crossed her lips.

"One of the guys told me I could find you in here. Tutuola I believe."

"Call him Fin. I don't think he'll actually respond to his last name."

"Will do."

"Don't take this the wrong way but I thought the Alex Cabot I was expecting was a guy." She chuckles and then shrugs in the most graceful way a shrug can be.

"Don't worry about it. I get that a lot. It's become almost a game to watch the reaction people have when they realize Alex Cabot is indeed a female." Something tells me there's more to that story but we don't really have time to get into long detailed back stories just yet. It's time for the tour.

I show her around the station house. It's simple, really. Here's the kitchen, there's the bathroom. Locker room, showers, small gym, and bunks. There's the "safe" where we store our turn out gear and the maintenance shed is over there. We may be a Manhattan company but we're not the big. Something about budget cuts or some shit. That's why I'm just a lieutenant and Cragen is our chief. I don't understand any of that stuff. In my opinion if the station house needs it, we should be able to get it. We all had to chip in something to be able to get a new shower stall. I mean come on, there's anywhere between 13 to 15 of us between Truck, Squad, Engine and the Ambo on shift at a time. We need more than 5 showers.

"Any questions?"

We'd made it back to the trucks and I was double checking the equipment and inventory on my truck.

"Just one. What's her number?" She ran her hand across the wide door and logo.

"Truck 3. After the Great Bambino himself."

She simply nodded. Seriously? I tell her that our truck was named after Babe Ruth and she just nods? She can't be human. Everyone I tell that story to nearly creams themselves. And she just nods?!

I lead her over to the rest of my crew. They are. of course, in the kitchen. We'd passed them earlier but I knew if we stopped then we'd never finish the tour.

"This is Munch, our driver."

John in all his lanky glory stands and shakes her hand. "Welcome to the 1-6. Nobody calls it Firehouse Sixteen "

"Duly noted."

I point to the rest of the guys.

"Stabler, Fin, whom you've already met-" my introduction was cut off by the alarm and Abbie's voice.

"Engine 38, Truck 3, Squad 58, Ambo 48, Battalion 13, building fire. 8825 Broadway."

We all dropped everything we were doing and rode out to the first call of the day.

Shit. This one's bad. It's one of the little theaters that not many know about but still has the luck of having a Broadway address. Cragen is shouting out orders and soon Stabler is on the ladder to go vent the roof and I'm calling Cabot to my side.

"Let's see what you got, Cabot. Theater manager says there's one guy trapped inside in the prop closet. Let's go."

I walk in first. The fire is making a mockery out of the stage curtains and the wooden stage floor. These old buildings often have flammable things everywhere including the shitty carpet we have to walk across.

"Fire department call out!" I hear something muffled and figure he must be behind a closed door. Not entirely a good sign nor a bad one. Cabot and I make it to the door and tell the guy to back up and cover his eyes. We're going in. "Kick it down, Cabot."

The wood door frame splinters and I'm not sure if its from the force of her kick or the heat from the fire. Either way, I'm impressed. We grab the guy, David apparently, from the flames and all but drag him out of the building just as Cragen orders everyone out. Just in time.

We keep him as covered as we can between out bodies as the glass windows on building next to us explode from the heat radiating off the theater. We deposit him on Melinda's gurney and turn back to watch Munch and Fin on the hose. They've always been a good team.

The flames are all extinguished and thankfully we didn't lose anyone.

"Nice work, Cabot." It's just about all I can say with everyone around. And she doesn't necessarily have to know how impressed I was by the kick. Makes me thankful I'm not a guy that's pissed her off. Although, with the force she has it'd probably hurt just the same even if I didn't have sensitive equipment below the belt.

"Yo, Benson! Who's making lunch today?"

Stabler asks me the moment we walk back into the kitchen.

"It's definitely not you, big guy." There's a collective chuckle from everyone that's heard our conversation.

"That was one time guys. One time."

I put my hand on his shoulder and shake my head.

"El, we needed two silver bullets, two."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. But seriously, who cooking lunch and by extension, dinner?"

I look over to the schedule and see Cassidy's name on the list. Well there goes lunch and dinner, Cassidy's out with the flu or some other virus this week. Honestly, why we keep him on is beyond me.

"I'll order pizza for lunch but I don't know about dinner." The boys just nod and leave me to call Massimo& Sons pizzeria down the block. They've been good to us ever since they opened. I walk back to the kitchen to find Cabot raiding the cabinets.

I stand and watch until she sees me and raise a questioning eyebrow.

"I volunteered to make dinner but it seems we don't have any groceries."

"There's a grocer on the corner few blocks from here. If you wanna go, it's coming from your pocket."

"And if we get a call?"

"Take your radio. If you're not back we'll swing by, pick you up and have your turnout gear in the truck."

"I'll be quick." And just like that she's gone. I'm screwed, I know I am. I just let her walk out in the middle of the shift. There's probably not much I'll say no to if she asks.

"Where's she going?" Of course it's John that notices her leave. He's sort of a perv but completely harmless. He's a gentleman, really, but it doesn't stop him from looking. I can't blame him.

"Grocer down the block. We need food and she's making dinner later."

"Middle of the shift, Liv."

"I know, El. Leave it alone. She'll be back soon enough."

I leave then in the kitchen and retire to my office. I don't want to be disturbed right now. I lay down on my bed and close my eyes. If i have to keep dealing with the guys questioning everything, it's going to be a long day.

"Olivia, Olivia! Help me!"

"Calvin! Calvin!"

There's flames all around us. They're licking up walls and wreaking havoc on the furniture. I can hear wood cracking from the heat and I can feel the floor protesting from the heat and the weight of me in my turnout gear. I can hear him calling my name and I'm trying to get to the bedroom. I just need to get there. I stumble as one of the floor boards splinter.

"Calvin! Calvin!"

"Olivia!"

I reach the bedroom door and the floor gives out and I fall to the apartment below.

"Olivia!"

A hard shove to my shoulder wakes me up from my dream. Well I wish I could call it a dream and not a memory. I can feel a tear run down my face and roll off my chin. Alex is standing there with a concerned look on her face before she looks away to give me some semblance of privacy.

"I'm really sorry to just barge in. I came to tell you that I was back from the grocer and, that the pizza arrived. I heard you half yell "Calvin" and figured I should wake you up before you got too loud. It's really not my business, I'm sorry."

She goes to leave but I grab her by the wrist.

"Wait." She stops and turns back to me.

"Thanks for waking me up. I uh, keep reliving this fire from a few months ago. We lost one of our own that day."

"Calvin?" I shake my head. "We lost Jack Frost. Man we gave him Hell for his name. We used to joke that he could put out a fire by blowing on it." I smile sadly and look back up at Alex. "Calvin is-"

The alarm goes off and we're off toward the truck before we know it. She squeezes my hand.

"Come on, Cabot. We've got fires to fight." She laughs and I'm glad, I needed some relief after that and it definitely helps that her laughter is akin to a symphony of angels.

Angels, really? Get a grip, Benson. You shouldn't chase everything with a pulse.

Oh have you seen her?

Not the point.

But still-what I'm I doing? I'm talking to myself.

Yep.

My God, I'm insane.

You said it, not me.

A/N: Well that's that. Let me know what you think. If you want to see more action with the fires or whatever.

Cheers,

ASachs