Title : Traitor

Pairing : Alex/Olivia

Author Note : Hey guys! Welcome to a hopefully long term story dealing with a case gone horribly, horribly wrong. Continuance is based on reviews so please do so! As always critique is greatly appreciated, as well as suggestions and comments.


His heart had stopped beating.

The gunshots rang loud and clear in the mid November air, biting and cold, echoing throughout the otherwise empty city streets. It was late, far too late for a stakeout and far too late for his liking, but it was orders and it was suppose to be nothing more then observation. That all changed when their backup, partners from homicide, began firing shots. There were no suspects, there were no perps, there were no crimes in progress; just Elliot and Olivia. It had all been a fucking setup from the inside out and they never saw it coming. Not until it was too late.

They scattered in an instant, abandoning their 24/7 diner in favor of an area with less chance of casualties, more chance of a talk down. It seemed unlikely at this point, and Elliot wasn't even sure he wanted to talk these sons of bitches down anymore. They were in the side alley, ears straining for any sign of the traitors in blue, and with every passing second they couldn't help but wonder where it had all gone wrong. Was it when IAB showed up two weeks ago? How about when the 1PP decided to crawl up their ass about a string of seemingly unrelated attacks? There were too many unanswered questions and not enough time. Elliot pulled out his radio only to feel Olivia's hand firmly wrap around his wrist. She shook her head silently, gun out and ready much like his own, a deep frown set along her face. "What are the chances they're listening on their own radios?" It was highly likely, and he mentally cursed himself. "I don't like this. We've been fucked over before but nothing like this. Not with our own people coming after us. Split up, regroup, and no contact until we figure out what the fuck is going on."

He watched her slip off the safety, remembering his had been clicked off the moment he heard shots. He was a lot more eager to take them down, he already knew this. He shouldn't of been, they were still people, despite their choices in life. Still, if they acted with haste now, it could kill the only lead they possibly had. No, it was turning into a game of cat and mouse and for some reason, he didn't feel like he was wearing the claws this time around. "Fine." There wasn't much of a choice. "Remember our phrase? I don't care where you call from, the first thing you say is the phrase or you'll hear a disconnect tone faster then anything else." It was a long running safety net they had, ten years in the making and up until now they thankfully hadn't needed it. Hostage situations, impersonators, the list went on and on for possible reasons to use it, and now seemed a good enough time as any to put it into effect. She simply nodded her response, letting out a deep breath to calm her nerves. He was no coiled it didn't matter anymore. He felt like a snake ready to strike out at anything and everything. He put a hand on her shoulder. "I'll head north, I know the area a bit so I should be able to lose them quick enough. Take the south, if they end up following us we'll have a better chance one on one in the end." He crouched up a bit, his knees groaning against the sudden movement. When this was done and over with, he'd have to head to the gym a few days a week to make up for it.

Her hand found his wrist again. "Be careful."

They ran in opposite directions, sticking close to buildings and dumpsters, trying their hardest to locate where the homicide grunts had wandered off to. So far they were in the clear, and that in itself was more unnerving then being shot at. He couldn't hear her footsteps anymore, and the harder he tried he couldn't even make out the diner behind him. So far so good. He wanted to call the captain, sort things out, figure out where they were breached. But it had to wait. Wait until they were out of danger, wait until they were out of the dark, and wait until his lungs stopped burning. He had to work out more, he was getting complacent. Twisting a corner into a new alley he paused a moment, head up to the sky for a deep breath before pressing forward again.

Three shots.

He swore as he dove against hard, unforgiving cement. The impact was a bitch and rolling through the trash and loose gravel was more insult then anything else. On his feet again, he whipped around, feet still carrying him in the opposite direction, eyes scanning in the darkness as best as possible. He fired off a single shot, a slight groan reaching his ears and sparking a grin as he took off with renewed energy. Turn around you stupid bastard and get out of here. The return fire was off by at least ten feet, but close enough to spur extra length to his steps. He wanted to see his kids again, god damn it, and he was going to make that happen. He briefly wondered how his father had been able to run so long and hard when he was a dedicated chain smoker. Maybe that's what did him in after the shooting.

Another corner, another alley and he couldn't hear a single thing. Nobody chasing after him, no bullets whizzing through the air, and no concerned citizens to call 911 like they were suppose to. He clicked the light of his watch on for a split second, his frown all but growing. Where the hell was he suppose to find cover at two in the morning? It was mainly residential areas at this point. He could flash his badge, use a phone, but what good would it do him? Call the captain? No. Call Kathy? Double no. If he waited long enough he could find a decent hiding spot until morning rolled around and check into the hotel a few blocks down. They opened at...what was it? Five? Something like that. It was the safest option. His thoughts fell back to Olivia, well past annoyed that there was no immediate contact. He'd call at five, if there was no answer? He'd retrace his steps and find her. Be safe.


Three shots.

Crouching behind a pile of long forgotten trash bags, it took everything she had not to run back, cursing all the while beneath her breath as she clenched and unclenched her fist. Elliot was a good cop, he knew what he was doing. But that worry would always be there, bubbling just beneath the surface. He'd been shot before, so had she, it was part of the job. It didn't make it any easier, though. It was brief, the pause before the return fire, but the fact that he was firing back was a scarce sign of good luck. She'd take what she could get at this point.

Fleeing her safe zone she kept against the brick walls as she made her way south, all the while scanning the area to make sure it was clear of civilians and enemies alike. First rule of combat was, if possible, lure your suspect into a highly populate area in order to scare him into not firing his weapon. A single death was one thing. Firing into a crowd of people was an entirely different level, one that most people wouldn't even dare to think about. These two though, Jake and Anderson? They fired in the middle of the god damned street, into a diner without any concern or setbacks. That was while they were in uniform, their squad car in the vicinity, and badge numbers on display for all to see. They didn't care because chances were, they were getting payed big money not to care. The fact that IAB was constantly in their way while people like this were running around really pissed her off.

She used that anger to fuel her frenzied passage between buildings and stores, trying her best to catch street signs as she made her way along. Forty second street had been three blocks back, so if she remembered right she'd be hitting another apartment complex soon and a few more blocks would give way to some abandoned construction sites and industrial buildings. She'd make her way through the construction and hopefully find a decent place to hole up in until morning. Find a pay booth, call Elliot, and find out what the fuck was going on.

"Stop! Police!"

A light fell across her face and she doubled back in an instant, cursing as she rounded a corner and kicked up loose chunks of concrete along her way. The homicide duo were in uniform. Olivia was in a leather jacket with a gun in her hands and drenched in sweat despite how cold it was outside. Who was the more believable cop in this situation? It made her want to laugh at the irony. If it were daylight a group of concerned citizens would get in her way, giving Anderson just enough time to catch up to her and take her to...the bosses? The mob? She didn't even know who they worked for at this point, but she wasn't about to find out the hard way. Luckily it was night, and such a stunt wouldn't work which made her wonder how long they had really been on the force. Were they new transfers from a station that didn't even exist? Or were they really just that wet behind the ears, despite their underground connections?

Her lungs were on fire, her feet seemingly worn to the bone, and the harder she tired the less likely it was that she was breathing normally. The sudden pain to her shoulder didn't help, and the fact that she could hear footsteps right behind her made everything that much worse. Spinning around on a dime, she raised her gun and fired twice. Both hit their mark straight into the chest, watching as he fell hard, face meeting concrete for the final time. He didn't move, her breathing evening out as she lowered her weapon, eyes never leaving his back. Anderson was young, early twenties, wet behind the ears and involved in something he shouldn't of been. Blood began to peek out from his chest, staining the sleeves of his arm as it continued outwards.

"Anderson!" His partner.

She ran again, not looking back. He had given up the chase on Elliot. That meant he either lost sight of him or... No, he must of lost sight of him. Glancing around she realized she was in a dead end and the only way back was through the alleyway with homicide's finest. There was a fence to the other side but it was too damn high without anything to use as leverage. No dice. The fact she'd have to sneak across the opening made it twice as unappealing. She couldn't just wait around and be a sitting duck, either. She glanced up at the sky, letting out a heavy sigh. Then she saw it.

The fire escapes. If she worked fast enough she could be eight stories in the air and out of sight and range of the remaining partner if he decided to pursue. Tucking her gun hastily back into it's hostler, she raised herself up onto the rickety and freezing bars, trying desperately not to curse from the tension and pain. She hit the gym twice a week and even more when she got the chance, something like a pull up shouldn't of been a problem. Grabbing her shoulder as soon as she got up onto the platform, she quickly withdrew her hand, realizing exactly what was wrong. Too much adrenaline combined with a gunshot wound often times ended up with stupid behavior. Such stupid behavior, also led to the lack of realization that one had been shot in the first place. It was a clean shot, in and out, and she would of known it something vital was hit already. No, she'd be fine as long as she got somewhere to lay down and hopefully find something to dress the wound with. Her sweatshirt would work once she had the time.

Wiping her hand off on her pant leg, she made her way up the alternating ladders at a considerable pace, trying not to jar her shoulder more then necessary. Her hair kept getting in her face as she made her way up, level after level, steel cold bar after steel cold bar. It wasn't higher then twenty degrees out and she'd been running for well over two hours. She was freezing, inside and out, fingers a little more purple then she last remembered. Her shoulder was becoming impossible to deal with, and as she glanced up at the multiple levels she could get to, she decided to rest. She was ten stories up already, wind tying desperately to blow her away, the occasional flake making itself known. She blew into her hands, rubbing them together, taking a look bellow. She couldn't see either of them from this height, so she was comfortable they couldn't see her, either.

Leaning against one of the firmly shut windows, blinds drawn strictly shut, she let out a deep sigh, clutching again at her shoulder. Everything was turning white, either from lack of comprehension or just plain snow, she wasn't sure which. How much blood had she lost since her climbing expedition? Could they track it? What time was it? She didn't know the answer to any of those questions, and it bothered her. Twisting around, she rapped her knuckles against the window, once then twice. A slight pause, and she tried it again. No such luck. There were two windows each level on the side she was on, and chances were they went into the same apartment either way.

Pulling her gun out, she used the butt end to break the glass, clearing it away so it wouldn't cut her as she made her way inside.


Alex could charge him with first degree man slaughter, second degree burglary, and a few misdemeanors just to piss him off when everything was said and dead. It was a solid case with plenty of evidence and even a living witness to put him away for a decent amount of time. She was pushing for fifty years, but chances were it would be reduced to thirty, which was good enough for her. It was thirty years of him being behind bars and another win to add to her ever growing collection. Special Victims was unique in that aspect, that no matter how clear cut the case was, there was more then enough chances for the scum of the earth to walk free. No, SVU wasn't a particularly safe unit for an aspiring district attorney, but it was well worth it at the end of the day.

Shutting the case book closed, she put the appropriate papers in their rightful folders and slid them into her briefcase, locking it without a second thought. Safety first. Now that work was out of the way, she had time to relax and perhaps even catch a few hours of sleep before she was due in court for the morning. Glancing at the clock on her desk, she let out an audible groan, pinching the bridge of her nose. Two in the morning? She'd have time for a glass of wine and then what? Four hours of sleep? She'd be napping at her desk during lunch, that much was certain.

Making her way into the kitchen, she pulled down a single wine glass, pouring one of her favorite bottles of chardonnay. It was light and loose and reminded her of home, for whatever reason. Perhaps because it eased away her tensions so easily. She wasn't an alcoholic by any means, but she knew how to use it as a much needed escape when the opportunity presented itself. For now, she was fine for a glass and sleep. Blissful, undisturbed sleep. Hand resting on the counter, her hip against the edge, she nearly dropped her glass in surprise. Had she left her television on before she went into her study? No, she could see it from where she was now and it was as black as it had ever been. The radio? No. The same rapping noise came again, and she set her glass down, knowing for certain it was coming from the living room. Her supposedly empty living room. Grabbing a kitchen knife from the block, she made her way quietly to the living room entrance, eyes darting around wildly.

As soon as the glass from her window fell the floor, she couldn't help but gasp, tightening her grasp on the knife. What the hell was she doing? The perp probably had a gun, maybe something worse. Was it a random break in or was it someone from a case she had dealt with? A thousand and one thoughts ran through her mind at once, watching the figure slink into her living room. "S-stop! I have a knife!" Her living room was far too dark to make out any noticeable features.

The figure stopped abruptly. Could she scare him off before any damage was done? Hands raised in the air, one that Alex immediately noticed was holding a gun, the figure spoke quickly and in such a heavy slur she could hardly make it out. "Please. I'm a c-cop. Detective. Badge number...number 44015. My name is.." The voice teetered off for a moment, but she immediately recognized the number, if not the voice.

Hand lowering slightly with the knife, she flicked the light switch on, illuminating the living room. "Olivia?"