Whir.

-click-

"Ya know-" Growing smirk. Raise of eyebrows. "This isn't my first interrogation...or my first time being interrogated."

"You've been interrogated before?"

Pause. "That thing isn't on now is it? This is all off the record?"

"It's on."

"Look, I'm no perp-" Anger laced words. Face and neck darkening red.

"We know."

"Turn it off. Now."

"Sir-"

"Now."

-click-

Whir.

-click-

"Again." Demanding, cool, and calm.

"I already told you." Exhausted, angered, and annoyed.

Silence, then, "Again."

A deep sigh. "Fine, it started a few weeks ag-"

"How many? Exactly."

"I don't know...two? Three?"

"Was it two? Or was it three? Exactly."

"Three...it was three, okay?"

"Continue."

"Right. It started three weeks ago..."

"What started? Be specific."

"Look, do you want me to tell you or not? Jesus." Brief pause before a quirk of the eyebrow and, "Do you mind?" Lights up a cigarette without a response. Inhales deeply, black pupils constrict, brushes smoke away from face and coughs. Puckers pink lips, blows out silver smoke rings. So quiet that he could almost hear the burning paper peel away in ashy flakes.

Clearing of throat. Female voice. Authoritative. "I didn't know you smoked, Detective."

Narrowing of eyes. "No shit? Well it seems that you guys don't know jack about me." The sarcasm thick.

Silence ensues once more. First male shakes his head disapprovingly.

Whir.

-click-

"Again."

"Christ Almighty." Leans forward quickly, cig dangling from his lips."Alright. Three weeks ago it all went to shit. It just all went to shit."

Elliot Stabler leaned back in his wooden chair, stretching his arms before pulling them back to lace his fingers behind his head. He crossed one ankle of the other, a content smile on his face broken only once by a large yawn.

Olivia looked up from her disorganized desk. She observed her partner's desk with obvious disdain before shaking her head in disgust and looking back down at her yellow legal pad. She jotted down a few notes before sighing and throwing the pen down in front of her. She rested her elbows on the bumpy surface and cradled her head in her hands. Feeling as though she was being watched, she glance up and caught Elliot's amused stare.

"Can I help you, El?"

"Nope," he replied simply. He began rocking his chair back and forth, like a cradle.

Olivia felt her lip curl up in confusion and annoyance at her partner's positive attitude. She shook her head and practically demanded why he was so happy.

Elliot shrugged, but the smile remained on his face. He bought his hands to his lap, still laced together. "A guy can't be happy once in awhile?"

Olivia resisted the urge to snort. Although she knew deep down that even if she did, Elliot and the other male detectives wouldn't have mind, she was practically one of the guys as it was. "In our line of work? No way."

He shrugged again, "Good day, I guess."

Olivia felt an infectious smile replace her bemused scowl, "God knows we need one."

Elliot tilted his head to the side, "God owes us one anyway," he claimed gently.

"Hmm," Olivia nodded in agreement, "You're right."

-click-

"Stop. Is this relevant?"

A gray smoke ring floated across the table. A nonchalant shrug."You wanted the story, now you're getting it."

Heated shake of the head. "No Detective. We want the facts."

A scoffing laugh, then a somber mocking impression, "'Just the facts ma'am.'"

"Again. From where you left off. Just. The. Facts."

Another easy roll of the shoulders, he did that often it seemed. He plucked the glowing cigarette from his lips with a practiced ease. Rolling it in between his fingers, he blew one last puff of smoke out before crushing the red end of the rolled up paper in an ashtray. A faint sizzle could be heard before another heavy sigh.

"It's relevant to me you assholes," he said softly, no sting in the words, but mere exhaustion.

Whir.

-click-

"I just got off the phone with the Captain over at the 17th precinct...wants to know if we need his detective or not...what do you want me to tell him?"

Elliot and Olivia exchanged amused expressions as Munch said, "You're asking us? You're hard-working, underpaid detectives?"

Cragen placed his hands in his pockets and jiggled them, an old habit of his, "Why yes, John, I'm asking you lowly bottom feeders for an answer. So what is it?"

John shrugged, "Not for me to say, this is their case," he motioned towards Elliot and Olivia.

Cragen sighed inaudibly and turned to face his two best detectives, "Stabler? Benson?"

Olivia looked over at Elliot, knowing that he would agree without even having to ask him aloud,"Tell him sure. We could use the help we can get."

Cragen nodded curtly, "Good."

Before their captain could return to his office, Elliot called out, "Hey, Cap?"
The older man stopped and turned around. Elliot twisted in his chair in order to face him. "This detective..."

Don nodded in the affirmative, "She's trained, she's smart, and better yet, she's young." With those words, and a playful wink tossed at Stabler, Cragen returned to his office.

Elliot turned to face Olivia, who wore a large smile. "What," he laughed.

"Nothing," she claimed, although she laughed as well.

-click-

"I think we're getting somewhere." Approval, firm nod, exchange of stoic expressions.

Leaning back in his creaky chair. "That was relevant, by the way," he pointed out half as smugly as he would have any other day. The female almost laughed, judging by the invisible twitch of the upper lip.

-click-

"Continue; tell us briefly what the case was, how the female detective was invol-"

"Sandra." Remorseful look, pained even, in his eyes. "Her name was Sandra."

"We know. It's here on file. Continue."

Shake of head. Anger evident. Pushing himself onto his elbows, leaning forward. "Not until you call her by her name. She wasn't just some detective, she was a human being, she had feelings too." Disgusted, judging look. "You two wouldn't know what those are, would you?"

"No. Continue."

"She's not just some statistic-"

"Continue, Detective."

Leaning back heavily once more, defeated. "We needed her for an undercover op." Fingers laced together tightly, hands in lap.

"Elaborate. What op?"

Brief pause. "I know you turned on the recorder again," he muttered under his breath, shooting a glare across the table.

"Should we beg?" the female seems to be enjoying this.

"Go to hell."

"Certainly. After you tell us more about this operation, why the female was needed...what went wrong?" The male, he seems to be enjoying this as well.

Tired glare through half-lidded eyes. Pulls at tie until it hangs around his thick neck loosely. "Can I get a cup of coffee?"

"Later."

Bites bottom lip, nods in understanding.. "Right, right." Small, exhausted laugh. "You need to find some lackey to shit in the pot first, before serving it, right? Got it."

-click-

"Someone get him his coffee?" the male calls out. Their alone in their small, enclosed room, but someone is most certainly watching. Always watching. An exchange of small, barely held smiles as he adds, "And please don't shit in it."

A crisp cackle from an intercom. White noise. Wince.

"Alright, detective?"

"Fine," he mutters, crossing arms across his broad chest tightly, "Let's keep going."

-click-

Acceptance via more bobbing heads. "Good, good. The op? What was it?"

Another soft sigh, crick of the neck. "It was a failed one..."


TBC...

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