Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. CSI is the intellectual property of Anthony E. Zuiker. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.
"We have been at this for over an hour," Nick complained, rubbing his eyes. The papers in his lap seemed to multiply on their own, offering no information of any use. "Why are we in here reading through all this crap, and Benson gets to hang on the stage with Grissom?"
Warrick Brown, the resident smooth operator, flipped over a page of his own. "Because you had a hissy fit about staying with Catherine at the bookstore and got yourself benched, and now I get to babysit your ass until you apologize to Grissom." He scanned another page of the docket in his hands. "Are either of you finding a link between Hanlin and White, other than the Riker's logs?"
Elliot yawned, shaking his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them wide, sniffling, trying to keep himself awake. "Gotta be someone in the system. Why was Hanlin a regular visitor, what did White have on him?" he mumbled, and he shot a glance toward Nick. "You said...she's on stage? What does that mean?"
"The stage," Nick cracked, rolling his eyes. "It's what we call the layout room, where the physical evidence is put together like a jigsaw puzzle, where we solve the crime. It's where the real work is done. Grissom's in there, having the time of his life with his protégée, and I'm in here with…" he made a nauseated face and suppressed a gag. "You."
"Oh, like being in here with the guy my wi…" he glanced at Warrick. "The guy my partner almost married...is a picnic for me?" Elliot shook his head. "Can we just do the job, here, and put the personal shit aside?"
"Great idea, I second that," Warrick said, flipping another page. His eyes zoomed in on something printed in the middle of the page and he sat up just a tad straighter. "Hanlin's brother-in-law worked in the prison, security supervisor. He was killed on the job, six months ago."
"What?" Elliot's voice cracked as he stiffened. "What...no, uh, don't tell me his name was Lyle Prit…"
"Lyle Pritchett," Warrick said, handing the sheet of paper to Elliot across the table. "You know the guy?"
Elliot nodded. "Me and Liv, uh, we dealt with him a lot when we had to transport and interview inmates," he said, and then he breathed out hard through a half-opened mouth. "He was also the guard I was paying to keep me in the loop as far as White was concerned. Son-of-a-bitch," he spat, a balled fist slamming down onto the table.
"Well, well, well," Nick chuckled, "Looks like this is all your fault, huh, Bucko?"
Warrick rolled his eyes and looked ahead at Elliot, his ice blue eyes trying to look trusting. "No one thinks this is your fault. It's just a thing that happened." He scanned the next page as he said, "Maybe this will convince you." He grinned and handed over another sheet of paper.
Elliot took it from him, read it quickly, and nodded. "Yeah, this, uh...this changes things." He let his lips curl into a very small smile and said, "Hanlin was paying Pritchett for the same thing, one of White's victims was his sister." He looked up and glared almost victoriously at Nick. "Which way to the, uh, the stage?"
Nick glowered, tossing the pile of now useless paperwork onto the table. "Down the hall, on the right, you'll...you'll know it when you see it." He leaned forward and eyeballed Elliot as he left the room and then, as soon as it was safe, he slapped Warrick in the arm. "Hey," he bit, "Thanks for having my back, here, man! What the hell were you…"
"You're being more obnoxious than usual," Warrick said dryly, and he shook his head, making his brown curls bouncy lightly. "I'm not about to let anyone thing I approve or agree with you, right now."
"You don't even know him," Nick chuckled. "Or her. You met her once, three years ago, but me? I've known her for what seems like forever and that asshole…" he pointed to Elliot's vacated seat. "He's wrong for her. All wrong."
Warrick pursed his lips and shifted more toward Nick. "He's her partner. She's a cop from across the country, Nicky, and he's her partner. You're letting this get personal…"
"Damn right, it's personal," Nick quipped, standing fast. "No one understands how damn personal this is! Except…" He popped up out of his chair, running after Elliot, and caught up to him in the hall. "Hey," he called, and then yelled a bit louder. "Stabler!"
Elliot turned but then scowled and shook his head. "I don't have time to…"
"Does she still do that cute little coy thing, you know, with the sheets?" Nick questioned, a mischievous grin on his face. "You know, she pulls them up in bed, won't let you…"
"I've never seen her do that," Elliot interrupted, brow furrowed. "With me, uh, she just…" he made a sweeping gesture with his hand over his chest, "Nothing." He shrugged and tried to turn, but Nick's voice stopped him again.
"What you did, man, that's not going to change her," Nick said with a bit more of a threat hanging off of his words. "You think, oh, you tied the knot, things will be different, but not with Benson. She's still going to creep out of bed in the middle of the night, she's still going to leave before you can make…"
"Stokes, what the fuck are you talking about?" Elliot gripped the paper in his hands a bit tighter as he folded his arms, widening his stance. "She's stayed with me all night, every night, since the first time we slept together eight fucking years ago, even helps me make breakfast in the morning. So I'm not sure what you think…"
Nick shook his head and held out both hands. "No, no, she's terrified of commitment, she wouldn't even leave her toothbrush at my place until after I asked her to marry me." He licked his lips and scoffed. "You're lying to try to get under my…"
"Look," Elliot lowered his voice and took a step closer to Nick. "It's not my place to tell you her reasons for being with you, but it's in the past, she grew up and she changed and she is with me. Happy, with me, for the right fucking reasons, and I would appreciate it if…"
"She scream?" Nick asked, his nostrils flared as he puffed out his chest. "See, with me, she was always quiet, breathy, I could never get her to make any kind of noise, so you say she's so different with you, tell me if…"
"It's none of your fucking business," Elliot cut in, his jaw right. But then he smirked. "But since you asked," he licked his lips and his voice dropped into a gravelly drone. "She's only quiet and breathy when the kids are in the house. We both are. When we're alone, well...luckily none of the neighbors ever called the cops but I'm sure they could hear us down the damn block. She also bites and scratches and there are nights where she's so fucking dominant that…"
Nick looked away from him, holding up a hand to stop him. "I get it," he said, and he dropped his gaze to the tops of his boots. "You said...real reasons, what, she didn't love me, that what you're trying to tell me?"
"I'm sure she loved you," Elliot lied, protecting the man's feelings as well as Olivia's trust. He ran a hand down his face and said, "Just...it was college, she was going through a lot with her mother, and she realized she wasn't ready for…"
"El?" Olivia called him, her head peeking out from the glass door of the large lab she was working in with Grissom. "I was just about to come get you, we got something…"
"So do I," he said, slowly turning from Nick to Olivia, and he smiled a bit more broadly once he saw her face. He held up the paper Warrick had given him. "Got Hanlin's motive."
"Great," she waved him over to her and said, "Because we found his killer."
Peace and Love Jo