He had thrown open the doors, just in time to see her slip out the glock, already moving into a different room. He didn't shout, he wouldn't mess up whatever was happening, but something in his gut told him it was all going south. Something was wrong, and as he pushed his way through the crowd of people, the feeling began to boil over. When he finally made his way through the glass doors, he saw Gitano. That sick, fucking bastard.
He had thrown open the doors, just in time to see her slip out her gun, already moving into a different room, out of sight. He didn't shout her name, he wouldn't mess up whatever was happening, but something in his gut told him it was all going south. So he chose to whisper it beneath his breath, pushing his way through the crowd of people. His eyes never left those doors, as if willing them to show him more. The feeling of unease was threatening to boil over as he finally made it through the doors, and then it all ran cold.
Gitano had the kid in his arm, knife raised as it gleamed against the dim lighting, that smug look never escaping his face. Olivia was already there, gun raised, ready to fire as she tried talking Gitano down. Shouting, really, for him to drop the kid. It was all over. But it was just the beginning, as he lashed out, catching her offguard, sending her backwards. A trail of red stained the blade, the air, her neck. He hated the color red. Her hand was already up against her throat, gun all but forgotten as she hit the cold tile, eyes wide. And Elliot was frozen, unable to move as his eyes shifted constantly between Olivia and the now running Gitano, kid still tight in his grasp.
"Move!" It was a command more to his legs then the people around him, but it worked just the same as he pushed and shoved his way through the crowd and knelt down next to her, not knowing where to put his hands. She was already keeping pressure on the wound, and he could see the red between her fingers. "Olivia! Oh god..." He was a religious man but at that moment, he couldn't think of a single prayer that might make things right.
And as he kneeled there, eyes taking in everything that shouldn't of happened, she was pushing him away, weakly. "I'm okay. I'm okay." She repeated, keeping her position on the ground. She couldn't get up, he knew that. "Go!" Her voice was low, raspy. It wasn't right. "Go! Get Gitano!" She finally barked out as he slowly stood, giving her one last glance before racing off to where Gitano had left, mind in a haze. He left his partner lying there, defenseless and helpless, and he already knew the kid was dead. Gitano had already slit his throat, and he was still going to chase after him like there would be something else waiting for him there then a corpse. If he ran back, would his partner already be one? He shouldn't of left her there. He screwed up.
So when he entered that squad room so many hours later, he could still hear the words screaming inside his head. 'Coward' , 'Fool' , and 'Disgusting' were some of the more tame ones he could make out from the chaos. He didn't know why he took it out on her of all people, but he couldn't stop himself as the words flew from his lips, dripping in misplaced anger.
"Why didn't you shoot Gitano?" The worst part was, she had been walking away. It could of all been avoided, but he just had to push until everything finally shattered apart.
"He was using the child as a shield." He could see the anger, the hurt, behind her eyes. He didn't care. It shouldn't of been there in the first place. None of this.
"How could you let him get so close to you?" He was really just asking himself that. He should of been there. He should of...
"There were innocent civilians around, I couldn't get a shot."
"Well he got close and Ryan's dead."
"So this is my fault?"
"You know, I can't do this. I can't be looking over my shoulder making sure you're okay-" He was cutt off almost instantly.
"You son of a bitch. You know that's not true-"
"I need to know you can do your job and not wait around for me to come to the rescue!" And right then, before he could finally snap the entire situation in half, Don was between them, forcing their glares elsewhere.
"Alright, now that's enough!" He barked through the heavy tension. "Knock it off." He let out a heavy sigh, reprimanding them before forcing them to take a break from one another. It was needed, he couldn't handle it. He couldn't handle her there, that bandage around her neck, reminding him of everything he had done wrong. Everything he had almost lost.
Her gun was raised for the second time that day and she still couldn't pull the trigger. She was still stuck between a rock and a hard place and she had to make a decision. "Victor, there's no way out of this." She was still on her side, gravel digging into her ribs, but she didn't care.
"Stop talking!" He was enraged, confused, and he wasn't about to let someone go without reason. He killed children, what difference did a cop make?
"You know what's gonna happen if you don't put that gun down." She took her chance to sit up, gun never wavering as she kept it aimed at his head. It was the only clear shot, and even then, it would graze Elliot. "Enough people have died."
"Olivia." Elliot tried.
"And I know you don't want to die." She got up on her feet, hands squeezed tightly around the gun, readjusting her hold. "You could of pulled the trigger on Detective Stabler, but you didn't. I would of killed you, but you didn't do that. Because you're smart." She emphasized the last word, trying to make a connection with him. At least gain some leverage. She desperately needed it.
"You've only got one chance, you've gotta take it!" Elliot barked out again, feeling the tip of his gun jam into his temple, reminding him of everything all at once. He didn't care.
"Where is she, Victor? Is she alive?" It was the only way to make this situation work. If they could save that little girl at the end of the day, at least they could sleep. It wouldn't be restful, it wouldn't be deserved, but at least they could sleep when they went home. If they made it that far.
"I ain't gonna tell you shit until you drop the gun, bitch!" He tugged at Elliot's collar fiercely, tapping his head with his gun in irritation, making him wince under the pressure.
"Shoot him!"
"Shut up Elliot!" She wasn't going to make today the day she killed her partner.
"Drop it or he's dead!" He yanked Elliot off the ground and onto his feet, twisting the back of his shirt in his fist, teeth clenched as he toyed with the trigger.
"And then what?" Her voice was completely calm. Despite everything, her voice was what retained the most sanity. "Do you really think you're gonna walk out of here? Because that's not gonna happen, and this is your choice. Dead or alive."
"I go he goes."
"Victor, tell us where Rebecca is and we can end this. Right now."
"Dead." She knew it was a lie. "I used her up and I bled her dry." A sick, depraved smile. "You wanna hear how she screamed? How she begged for her mommy?" It forced her to focus her gun. She wanted to pull that trigger, but she waited. She wasn't going to give him what he wanted.
"Stop it."
"She was a slut, that one. A real whore."
Elliot managed to turn his head to face him, gun now aimed perfectly between his eyes. It was as if he was asking for death. "You're a dead man, Victor."
Everyone was yelling and tensions were thick and all she could think about was the probability she was going to leave the warehouse without a partner. She tried moving closer, but immediately backed off as he began to yell. "Any closer and you'll be wearing your partner on your coat!"
"Olivia." Elliot had to stop talking. "There's no reason to keep this piece of crap alive. Pull the trigger right now. Olivia, pull it!" They were all yelling and it was getting to her. "Shoot him!"
And then Victor realized that he might not make it out of here the way he wanted. He was beginning to sweat and the way his eyebrow twitched, told her that he was beginning to crack. "Ya know...Ya know that little girl, she might be alive. She could be locked up in here. Or somewhere else fifteen miles away. You don't really know, do you?"
She shook her head. "You're a liar."
"Yeah, well that's the point."
"Tell us where she is, Victor." She needed to know. They needed her. Every single one of them.
"She's here! She isn't dead otherwise he would of been long gone!" He was staring her right in the eyes now, screaming at her without raising his voice this time. And then he broke it off to stare back at Victor. "Unless you like them dead. You sick like that too?"
"Yeah, I love that." He lied through his teeth. "The deader the better! They don't fight as much." He ground that gun barrel so hard into his temple he could feel a migraine forming.
"Olivia." His voice cracked. "If you think about me, Rebecca is dead. Pull that trigger." Then it finally dawned on her that this wasn't about her, or the case, or anything else. It was about how he had failed to chase Gitano earlier that day and that little boy had been dead. Either way he would of been dead, but Elliot didn't see it that way. He never would, and Olivia was left to make a choice. "Shoot him." She tightened her grip on the gun. "Shoot him." She wrapped her finger around the trigger. "Olivia, shoot him."
"Yeah, you do that." Victor put his head a little more behind Elliot, who was a big enough shield for him to use. "But you better take me out with one shot." He was weaving behind him now, side to side, her gun trailing as closely as possible. "One, perfect shot. Course my reflexes are pretty tight." He added. "I could pull the trigger before the bullet even hits me. Or maybe you miss me all together." He was screaming again. "Either way there's an eighty percent chance I'm gonna take this guy's head clean off!" He couldn't even remember Elliot's name.
He had a wife, four kids, and he couldn't remember his name of all things. He liked his coffee black, hated sushi, and on occasion he would jog in Central Park. His second youngest son wanted to join the military, his eldest daughter was in rehab, and he couldn't remember his name. And despite all of this, she couldn't take the shot. She couldn't take the shot without hitting Elliot and that's all that mattered. She couldn't do it.
"But try it, definitely, it'll probably turn out great."
"You can kill us both, Victor. You're still not walking out of here." It did the trick. He was sweating a river, panting almost as he looked around the warehouse, eyes wild.
"Right..." He muttered. "Right. Because you got some buddies coming, huh? When's that going down?"
"Any minute."
"Great...Great." He swallowed hard. He was loosing his cool and he was starting to leave himself open. Not enough to get in a shot yet, but it would only be a matter of moments now before she could place one right between his eyes.
"Just tell us where you hid her."
"You know, you could put the gun down." He suggested. "At least then you might find her because otherwise she's gonna die. She's gonna die, he's gonna die, and it'll be all you're fault." He talked like she didn't already know this. Like it wasn't the mantra running through her head the entire time she had her gun raised. "Just like the little boy. How's your neck?"
"It's not the same thing, Olivia. You know that." She couldn't tell if he was lying or not, but Elliot was trying his best to be comforting. And Victor took the obvious tension and ran with it.
"Yes it is, Olivia! Both of you, a couple of screw ups! How could you let that little boy go?" And she could feel it, the guilt, rising up in the back of her mind. She had been right there, inches away, and it had all slipped between her fingers, just like the blood from her neck.
"Olivia, look at me." An then Victor's voice began to fade away into a dull mute and she couldn't understand a single thing he was saying. All she could see was Elliot's eyes, stormy blue, the wrinkles in his forehead deeper then usual. "You can do the right thing. I didn't and I made that choice with Ryan and it was wrong."
"Elliot..." He never made that decision. That had all been on her.
"It was my fault. Don't do it. Don't make that mistake." And suddenly the storm in his eyes were gone and they were a clear, icy blue. Somewhere, he had made peace with himself and that frightened her the most. She nearly dropped her gun.
"I would of done the same thing."
"Don't make my mistake." He was shaking his head, trying to scold her. He came up short.
There was a loud noise towards the back of the warehouse, and everything broke loose. Gitano was screaming, Elliot was slowly nodding his head, and she had her gun in one hand, ready to fire. He was shaking Elliot, bouncing on the heels of his feet, and she trailed him with her gun, never leaving her mark. "None of you cops come in here! Hey, hey!" He yelled at nothing, not even raising a response from the two of them. They were talking through their eyes. He knew she had to pull the trigger and she was begging him not to make her do that. Not to make her the killer of his four kids. The widower of his wife. Partnerless.
"I'll tell you where she is." He was desperate.
"Where?" She knew better.
"She's in a van, parked in a garage in Nework. She might still be alive." His breathing was labored.
"He's lying." She shook her head, slowly.
"I know." Elliot knew the entire time.
"He's never gonna tell us." Everything was coming apart.
"You're right." And Elliot could feel it breaking.
"We can all walk out of here alive, if you just put the gun down." And Gitano was wrapped up in denial.
"It's alright." He was holding back tears by now. His eyes shone despite the minimal lighting and it reminded her of the ocean. He wet his lips in anticipation.
"I'm sorry." It was barely a whisper, hazel eyes threatening to water over. Elliot closed his eyes.
The shot rang out and Gitano was down on the ground, smoke clearing, blood splattered across his own face. "Suspect down, move in! Move in!" A uniformed cop was on the balcony, sniper rifle lowered, waving behind him for backup.
Olivia still stood there, gun raised, until Elliot rested a hand on her shoulder, coaxing it down.
It was past midnight by the time they were able to sit down outside the precinct, completely drained. They had given their statements, talked to the Captain, and tied up all the loose ends. They had even found the girl, barely alive, inside the warehouse. Victor had lied to them, even in the very end. A sick, disgusting man.
"If that sniper hadn't gotten there first, I knew you would of taken the shot Olivia." He said slowly, watching for her reaction. He had to know that she would of done the right thing. He had to know that someone out there was smarter then he was.
She turned, finally, to face him, eyebrow raised. "No, I wouldn't of. Did you really expect me to? To be the cause of your death? What about your kids?"
"I don't know." He paused. "I just couldn't get that boy out of my head."
"What about me?" She added quietly, turning away from him to face the ceiling. Of all the things that had happened and after all the things they went through, this was one of the most frightening. They had both almost lost everything. They couldn't afford that. Neither of them.
"Look. We both chose each other over the job. We can't ever let that happen again." He had to be the smart one here. He had to be the straight-and-narrow that wouldn't get them both killed. "Otherwise." And if it came to that point, he would sever them apart if it meant saving whatever they had left. "We can't be partners."
He stood outside her apartment door, rocking from his toes to his heels and back again in a repetitive fashion, unable to stand still. There was still so much adrenaline coursing through his veins that he felt ready to explode. He had been ready to die tonight, and he still hadn't gone home to his empty apartment. He hadn't gone to Kathy's to see her and the kids and just make sure that everyone was still alright. He hadn't even changed his clothes, blood still lingering on his collar and shoulder.
Two knocks on the door and he folded his arms behind his back, staring up at the rather bland ceiling of the hallway before he heard the chain on the other side slide off, another lock being opened before her face came into view. She looked twenty years older then usual yet she was still beautiful. Those eyes would never change. "Elliot, do you realize what time it is?" She questioned dully, failing to realize that she hadn't even changed out of her clothes, either.
"Can I come in?" He didn't need to ask, after all these years of being partners, but after what he had said earlier, he found it right. Maybe he didn't deserve to call himself her partner anymore. He had done a lot of pushing and didn't have a single reason for it, as far as she knew. Unstabler, as he was better known.
He watched the flicker of emotions behind her eyes until finally she opened the door just wide enough for him to squeeze through. "Five minutes. I'll make you a cup of coffee." He already knew that she would make herself some tea, she preferred it anyways. It was the little things that they knew about each other that brought them together and pushed them apart.
He took a seat on her couch, shoes still firmly in place, arms resting on his knees as he rubbed his knuckles nervously. He wasn't normally a nervous man, but he wouldn't exactly consider earlier events 'normal'. Nothing felt right. He didn't even feel right in his own skin anymore.
It took him a moment to register the cup in front of his face, but he took it as quickly as possible, thanking her under his breath before taking a sip. It burnt the roof of his mouth but he didn't care. It felt good that way. "Elliot..." She didn't have to finish her sentence, because he already knew what she wanted. An explanation. Him far away from her apartment. Perhaps even a bottle of wine, at this point.
He wasn't sure how to start. He didn't even know what it was he wanted to say. He just felt compelled to show up and...and just try to make things right. Maybe he should of had more sessions with Huang. Maybe it would of helped him talk about his feelings better. "Olivia." He took in a deep breath before exhaling, slowly. "Why wouldn't you take the shot?" And he had been doing so well.
"Out." She had set down her tea, a burning behind her eyes that he hadn't noticed in a long, long time.
"That isn't what I -"
"Get out." It was a command.
He picked himself up, slamming back the rest of his coffee before leaving it on the small table. He hung his head lower then usual, shoulders jutting out through his coat it seemed, as he made his way through the door and into the hallway. "Olivia, I -"
The door slammed in his face.