A/N: This idea popped into my head, and I couldn't stop thinking about it, until I wrote it out. Similar to a few of my older fics, but still, I feel, unique in idea and execution. Forgive me?
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything except the written words. Dick Wolf, don't sue me, pal. This is a labor of love!
He apologizes, for what seems like the fifth time, and she simply smiles at him. He smiles back, his suit jacket unbuttoned as he leans back in his cushioned chair. "I'm sorry," he says again.
"I'm not mad at you. We both made the choice, okay?" She moves her computer's mouse around a bit, waking up her machine. "We have a lot of paperwork to do, anyway, so getting docked is a blessing in disguise." She smiles at him again, her brown eyes sparkling. She runs a hand through her wavy hair and winks, and then turns her gaze to her monitor, starting up the database program and opening a blank file.
He shakes his head, still smiling, and boots up his own system. He reaches for one of the files stacked up in the middle of their metal desks and flips it open, and then rests his hand over his mouse. He moves the cursor, but before he can open the program, an Interdepartmental Message alert pops up, an unfamiliar handle and icon at the top. Curious, he opens it, and he tries to place the name.
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: Top o' the mornin,' Detective.
It doesn't ring any bells, so he decides he needs to ask.
ESTabler_SVU_6313: Who is this?
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: Wow, rude much?
ESTabler_SVU_6313: Morning. Now, who is this?
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: No time for introductions. I have a few questions, I need answers. I'm on a tight schedule here.
Elliot, still furrowing his brow and pursing his lips, opens a new window. Quickly, he starts to run a database search. He types in the username, but it deletes itself. He tries again, and again it disappears. He opens another IM window, to Olivia, and he asks her to try to trace the handle, but her computer never pings and the window closes by itself. He tries again, this time shooting an IM to Morales upstairs in the technical response unit. He curses as that window is closed, too, and the message deleted before its delivered.
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: Don't even try it, Detective. Clearly, I've hacked into the server. Right now, I'm piggybacking off of a secure network ID, so all TARU would find is that some poor asshole in Traffic Crimes has too much time on his hands.
ESTabler_SVU_6313: Who are you and what the hell do you want? I'm working here.
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: I told you, introductions have to wait. As for what I want? I want to play a game. 20 questions. I'll start.
ESTabler_SVU_6313: I don't play games.
He moves the mouse, dragging the cursor across the screen, and he clicks the red X in the window, closing the IM, shaking his head. "Stupid kids," he spits, assuming it's one of the interns in Computer Crimes playing a prank. He flattens a palm over his green tie, smoothing it down as he relaxes. But he gasps, though, when a new browser window pops open, on its own, and an e-mail begins to write itself. The recipient? Captain Donald Cragen. The subject line? Formal Transfer Request. The sender? Elliot Stabler.
His eyes widen as he watches the ghostwriter type in the body of the e-mail, a detailed account of what some would consider a romantic, passionate affair, others would consider soft-core porn, filling in the gaps with emotional pleas for his mental health, a claim that he would go crazy if he had to give her up and rather than lose her, he'd lose her job. The attached photo proves that some of what is typed is true, but no one in the unit needs to see it. Especially not Cragen.
ESTabler_SVU_6313: All right! Motherfucker, fine! Just...delete that! I'll answer your questions.
Elliot heaves a relieved sigh as he watches the e-mail disappear, letter by letter, and the window closes.
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: Smart man.
ESTabler_SVU_6313: Ask me, asshole. Just...leave Olivia out of this.
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: No can do, pal. After all, she's why I'm here. And don't try to tell her what's going on here, or you'll be sorry. So will she.
ESTabler_SVU_6313: Excuse me?
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: First question. Does your wife know you've been fucking your partner? For three fucking years?
Elliot stills, his heart pounds against his chest, and he bites his lip so hard it bleeds. He looks across at her, her bangs falling into her eyes, her lip poking out of her mouth as she concentrates, and he begs her to look up at him, so he can silently tell her what's going on, but his computer pings, getting his attention.
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: Tick, tock, Detective! Answer the question!
ESTabler_SVU_6313: She suspects.
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: Atta boy. See? This isn't hard. Are you just fucking her, or do you actually feel some kind of shit for her?
ESTabler_SVU_6313: I think you already know.
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: Aw, Detective, you were doing so well! That wasn't an answer, and now you have to pay.
As Elliot watches, his cursor moves by itself, clicking an important file folder and dragging it toward the Recycle Bin.
ESTabler_SVU_6313: I'M IN LOVE WITH HER, OKAY? HAPPY?
ESTabler_SVU_6313: Just don't delete that! Please!
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: Ah, you're learning. You answered just in time.
Elliot relaxes his shoulders, trying to breathe, watching the folder snap back into its place on his desktop.
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: So your precious Liv, she's just playing second fiddle to your wife? And you think that's okay?
ESTabler_SVU_6313: Never. Divorce. Ever hear of it?
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: It's been three years, Detective. She fucks you, because you give it to her the way she wants it, the way she needs it, but she doesn't think you have a real future. She did once, but not anymore. She knows you're staying with your trophy wife, and eventually she'll move on. I'm right, no?
ESTabler_SVU_6313: Couldn't be more wrong. We talk. She knows everything, and she knows I don't put her second to anyone, or anything. Ever. And I signed papers, just waiting on Kathy.
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: Atta boy! You passed the test! You know, you two really are fucking hot. I've seen you in action. I got videos, you know. I could sell them, make a fortune. You are packing some pretty impressive heat and that partner of yours…I could do some damage to her, and I would love every minute of it. That body, the way she moves. I can see why you caved, why you fucked her the first time, why you fuck her every chance you get.
ESTabler_SVU_6313: DO NOT TALK ABOUT HER LIKE THAT!
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: Maybe your wife would like to see one of our movies? It would convince her to sign the papers, huh? OR Maybe it'll get her as hot as it gets me. We both know it'll be the first time she's seen your lethal weapon in, what, the past three years?
ESTabler_SVU_6313: We'd know if we were being filmed. You're bluffing.
He gasps and coughs as a window pops open on his computer screen. Sure, it's a grainy video clip, but obviously it is him, and Olivia, and he thanks God that the psycho he's dealing with didn't blast the volume. He tries to frantically click the X but the video plays on, it won't close. He can't help it, he watches, and his pants tighten as he realizes they really are fucking hot. He snaps out of it, though, and slams a fist down on the keyboard.
"You okay?" Olivia asks softly, looking up at him.
"Fucking computer," he spits, trying to laugh, "I thought we put in a request for new ones." He clears his throat and he exhales slowly when the video stops playing and the window fades into nothingness.
ESTabler_SVU_6313: OKAY! CHRIST! You have video! But how the fucking fuck?
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: I don't bluff, Detective. Know that. Your dirty little secret's safe, as long as you play the game. Now, next question. Are you absolutely sure you know everything about your precious partner? I mean...EVERYTHING?
ESTabler_SVU_6313: Damn right, I do.
He smirks. This is the one thing he's absolutely sure of, he can't be painted into a corner with this.
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: You sure? Have you been infallibly honest with her? Are you sure she's never lied to you?
ESTabler_SVU_6313: Fuck yes. We know everything about each other, I have never lied to her, and she's never lied to me, and that was fucking more than one fucking question.
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: Potty mouth, Detective! I've already warned you about your manners. That's going to cost you.
Elliot hears Olivia's computer ping, and his head pops up, his eyes wide, beads of sweat beginning to form on his brow as he wonders what the hell the lunatic said or did or sent her. He watches, helpless, as she gives him a smoky look, lowers her voice, and says, "Not at work, you want to get us both fired?" But then she smirks. "Besides, you'll find out, tonight." She laughs and shakes her head, and then goes back to her paperwork.
ESTabler_SVU_6313: Knock it the hell off!
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: LOL DETECTIVE. You don't get to tell me what to do. Unless you start playing by my rules, I will destroy your career, your relationship, and your family. Bit by glorious bit.
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: Relax, Detective. Wipe your forehead, breathe, this will all be over soon.
Elliot runs a hand down his face as he breathes, hard, and wipes his forehead with his sleeve, as he was instructed.
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: Atta boy! Just relax and look at your partner. I know she calms you down. By the way, I love that color on her. The red brings out her eyes, doesn't it?
He realizes now that the son of a bitch can see them, hear them, could even be in the room with them. He swallows hard and says the one thing he knows the bastard wants.
ESTabler_SVU_6313: She always looks beautiful.
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: Aw, how sweet. We're running out of time, here, Detective. I have to make this fast, so I'll cut to the chase. Now, you know what I'm capable of, what I could do to you, to her, to Kathy and the kids, so react very subtly, and think very carefully.
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: Open your front desk drawer, take out the folded note I've left for you, read it to yourself, and nod once if that's something you knew, lick your lips if it's coming as a bit of a shock.
Taking a slow breath, he pulls open the drawer and his fingers curl around the edges of a folded piece of yellow paper. He lifts it, unfolds it, reads it, and now he knows what's happening. She'd warned him this would happen if anyone found out about them, and deep down, he'd wanted it to happen. He lets himself smile slightly as he nods once, and crumples the note into a little ball. He shoots it like a basketball into the trash can, declaring victory. The bastard tried to break him and failed.
Cryp71c0mn15c13n7: If that's true, then you'll have no problem accepting the offer I am about to make.
A window pops up, and outwardly, it looks like a TOS agreement, something no one reads but just agrees to after they've installed a program or downloaded a game. It isn't anything like that, though. He knows he has to read every single word, and so he does. He takes in the legal jargon, he reads the five bullet points and three subsections, he reads the rules and when he gets to the bottom, he finds two button icons. They both say "Accept."
With a shaking hand, he moves the mouse, he aims the arrow over the first button, and he closes his eyes, knowing what it means, knowing what it will cost, but knowing the rewards are greater than the losses. He clicks the left mouse button and changes his life, Olivia's life, and he swears the universe shifted. He felt it.
He hears Olivia's cell phone ring, and his eyes pop open. He watches her answer it with a swift, "Benson." His eyes stay focused on her as her head turns, her eyes meet his as they widen.
Into her phone, she says, "Say what, now?" she asks, her voice cold. "How did that...no, I didn't give anyone access to…" She rolls her eyes. "I didn't authorize anything. Yes. I'm not sure, either. No, I'll find out." Her eyes close and she swallows. "I know that. So does he, if he…" and her voice stops, she looks into his eyes, and she smiles. "Yeah." She hangs up, licks her lips, and moves to the lockers beside her desk. She opens hers and pulls out a small, black notebook computer, flips it open, and starts frantically typing and pointing and clicking, and that's when it occurs to him to ask a question.
Though, now, he really hates questions.
"What're you doing?" he asks, rising and moving over to her.
"I know what just happened," she whispers to him.
He stands behind her as she opens a program file, and as though it is a video stuck on fast-forward, the entire exchange between him and Cryp71c0mn15c13n7 replays for them. "He told me not to tell you that…"
"I know," she says, and as the screen-mirrored video continues, she is typing like the wind into the text boxes of another program. "The contract was legit, you know that, don't you?"
He bites his lip and nods. "I know that, I told you...when you told me, I told you that…"
"But," she interrupts him, "No one authorized the offer. This didn't come from…"
"Hold on," he says, cutting her off as one window plays a much smaller, faster version of the most intense twenty minutes of his life and she works her own computer hacking magic in another. "All of that, that wasn't just some sort of initiation into…"
"It was a trap," she says, again stepping on his words. She looks over her shoulder at him. "You fell right into it." She gulps and presses her lips together, and she shakes her head. "And I can't get you out of it."
"I knew...I mean, I read the...I accepted this, I told you if I was ever asked to, I would," he stammers. "What are you saying? That this wasn't sanctioned? Who the hell was I talking to?"
She shakes her head. "I don't know," she says, typing faster, hitting the keys harder, new windows opening, new programs running. "I'm trying to find out."
"He said TARU wouldn't be able to trace him," Elliot whispers, bending closer to her, his heart racing again.
She smirks, almost evilly, as she turns to look at him again. "I'm not TARU. He doesn't know who he just fucked with, and he's not the only one who can play games." She swipes her finger over the touchpad, clicks, drags, and clicks some more, and her smile fades. "But he roped you into shit you're not ready for, that's why I never…"
"My offer was supposed to come directly from you?" he asks, slicing into her reasoning.
She nods once. "I had the whole bit from The Godfather ready to go, only I was planning on being naked in a bathtub when I gave you an offer you couldn't refuse." She worked harder, faster, following the breadcrumbs the hacker had left in the server and the ComStat files, and she found just a small piece of its origin lurking in the basfiles of a back-office data server in Traffic Crimes. "Soften the blow, ya know?"
He watched her work, amazed, and he said, "Well, I felt ready, I clicked the thing, so what happens now?"
"Wait," she hissed, and almost as soon as she spoke the word, three men in black suits walked into the squadroom, strode up to their desks, and stopped, staring at them. One of the men tilted his head and asked, "Find it?"
"Almost," she said, "But, uh, stabler knows that how it happened doesn't change the fact that it happened. He's in, all the way." She sighed again, left her computer to run its programs, and then pointed to the printer. "You wanna get those?" she asked, looking up at Elliot.
"What?" he questioned, moving. He grabbed the stack of paper, flipping through it, and he looked at her. "How the hell did you…"
"Later," she snapped, "I'll explain later. Just help me, here. We gotta go."
Elliot followed her lead, making sure each printed report was stapled into the right folder, and then she moved fast, heading for Cragen's office with a finished stack of files that neither her nor her partner actually had a hand in completing.
When she came back, she grabbed her black jacket nand her keys, and looked at Elliot. "Come on," she said, waiting.
He pulled his own long, tan coat off of his chair, and as he shoved his arm into one of the sleeves, he asked, "Where are we going?"
"You wanted an initiation," she said, giving a sly, sideways look toward the men in suits next to her, and then she smirked at Elliot. "You're about to get one."
A/N: Hmmmmmmmm?