A/N: Thank you, thank you!! The response to this has been incredible! I love you guys! Now, the proposal! How will Commander Benson handle it? We meet an old friend! We find out what exactly Special Ops does with their criminals.
DISCLAIMER: SVU and its Characters belong to Dick Wolf. Storyline, narrative and dialogue belong to TStabler©
It was well past one in the morning when Elliot walked through the elevator doors into the new, larger, higher-up-in-the-sky penthouse, which he now shared permanently with Olivia. He didn't know why he expected her to be in bed, since she hardly ever slept, but he was still shocked to see her awake and dressed in a suit, staring at the city from the panoramic window.
"I've been standing here, for the last hour, asking myself how this all happened. How one day I was taking an IQ test in my English Lit class and the next I'm being carted off to some boarding school for excessively intelligent children. It wasn't a boarding school, El."
He threw his jacket over the back of an overstuffed leather chair and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her. "First, how did you know I was behind you because those friggin' doors open silently. Second, you are here, I believe, because you were meant to be here. This is your destiny. I'm your destiny, Liv." He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tighter in his arms. "Even though it was all manipulated and controlled by the government," he added with a chuckle.
"Exactly. I don't know if I'm even capable of making a decision by myself. Everything I do is somehow, someway, affected by the responsibilities I have toward this agency, and the decisions they make for me. The only choice I've ever made for myself turned out to be one that they made for me, anyway." She spun around and wrapped her arms around him, looking up into his glistening eyes. "Not that it wasn't a damn good decision."
"Well, speaking of decisions. Remember how, last night, after all of the really powerful men in the entire world left, you said that there was a difference, at Special Ops, between getting married and being assigned as your permanent life companion?" He stuck his hand in his pocket, grabbing a hold of the black box.
"Yeah," she said pulling away from him and walking toward the coffee machine. She pushed three buttons and walked back toward Elliot. "Weddings aren't necessary. You just have to sign a form, make a public declaration. No white dress, no tux, no friends and family. Kind of a jip, but a lot less stressful and I'm allergic to flowers."
"We can get artificial ones," he said as he pulled out the box.
Olivia laughed. "El, I just told you we don't have to have a....what is that?" He took her hand and led her back to the large window, and knelt down on one knee. "I told you that we are going to do this right. In my mind, that means you get a real wedding. Because, you told me the other day, in bed, that you've had it planned since you were nine. The dress, the cake, you'll throw the fake bouquet, and watch the hilarity ensue when three hundred people, who are trained to catch things, go after it at once." He popped the box open and Olivia sucked in a breath and dropped to her knees herself.
"Coming down to my level?" he asked with a laugh. "I know I'm going to be spending the rest of my life with Commander Benson, which, with the help of several hundred bodyguards and Dr. Warner is going to be a long-ass time. But, what I'm asking, is, does Olivia Benson want to marry me? Will you marry me, Liv?"
She didn't understand why she was crying. She was overjoyed! Didn't people cry because they were sad? She wiped her eyes and laughed, smiling at Elliot. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you." She threw herself onto him, kissed him madly and said "I love you" approximately thirty-nine times. Laughing, Elliot slid out from underneath her and took her left hand in his, slipping the ring on her finger. "I love you, too, baby." "What time is it?" she asked, kissing him again.
"Almost two, why?" he kissed her back, then kissed her chin, neck, and collarbone. "Because, I've got two hours before I need to start my day. I want to spend those two hours in our bedroom, wearing nothing but this ring, making love to you."
"That can be arranged," Elliot said, rising to his feet and scooping her up in his arms. He carried her to the bedroom and kicked the door closed, thanking God that their penthouse was soundproof.
Munch was staring at the vacant seat across from him. "Has anyone seen Cassidy?"
Elliot handed him a file and took another one off of his desk. "Not since yesterday, Munch. Sorry."
"I've called his cell six times. We have to appear in court in fifteen minutes and...Agent Benson! Good morning, precious!"
"Good morning, Munch. Oh, it's Commander Benson, now. These new guys will probably harm you if you get that wrong again. They don't take kindly to incorrect nomenclature." She shook Munch's hand, and he took the time to gaze at the ring. "Oh, yeah, hey! Congratulations! You gonna change your name? Gonna be Commander Stabler?"
She laughed as Elliot popped his head up. They hadn't discussed that. "Well, no. Unfortunately, my identity at Special Ops will always be Benson. However, between you and me, it'll say Stabler on my driver's license." She shot a wink at Elliot, who shot one right back. "Regretfully, this is not a social visit. I've come to inform you that Cassidy will not be able to testify with you today. I do, however, have his sworn statement and a letter, from me, for you to give to the judge. You'll find that everything is in order and if the defense wants to ask questions that Cassidy has not answered in his statement, just have the judge hand the defense attorney the letter, from me."
After handing Munch the file containing the statement and the letter, she walked past Munch, breezed by Jeffries and walked, unannounced, without knocking, into Captain Cragen's office. A moment passed. She came back out with a satisfied smirk on her face, followed by Cragen, who was livid. Olivia stopped by Jeffries' desk, picked up the receiver of her phone, and unscrewed the bottom. She pulled out a small, black chip with a blinking red light and turned to Jeffries. She smiled evilly, narrowed her eyes and said, "Gotcha."
She walked back to the middle of the room and spoke again. "Cassidy will be back tomorrow. He's been assisting us with an important matter, and Captain Cragen, we appreciate you giving him the time to do so. Jeffries, however, will not be back so soon." With a snap and a gesture, two of the men behind Olivia marched over and grabbed Jeffries, one on either side. "This," she said as another agent stepped forward, "Is Odafin Tutuola. He has, voluntarily, of course, resigned as a Special Ops agent and will be taking one of the, now abandoned, positions here at SVU. I assure you, this man is quite capable of handling any case you can throw at him. Have a good day." She nodded briskly to her unit and they all filed out.
"So," Munch began, "She said your name was Agent Odafin Tutu what now?"
The man laughed. "Chill, bro. I'm not in Ops anymore. Call me 'Fin'
"Munch, you're due in court! Go," Cragen yelled from his office. Munch ran out of the room with Benson's file in his hands.
Elliot had to ask. "Fin, right? How, and I'm just asking 'cause I'm curious, I'd never ask her to, do you leave Special Ops?"
"Simple," Fin replied. "Die."
"Well, uh, that is not what I meant," Elliot said with wide eyes. Fin laughed and started playing with the slinky on Cassidy's desk. "I'm messin' with ya man. Since you're...ya know...you, I can talk. There's a thirty day out-clause for most people."
"Out-clause? Like a money-back-guarantee?"
Fin chuckled. "Yeah, man. You get to keep your old life on the side for thirty-days, test the waters in the agency. If you hate it, they let you slide right back into the old you. If you decide you hate it, say, on day thirty-one, tough. You're stuck until you either fuck-up or die."
Elliot hummed. "What did you mean, most people?"
"There's a select group, maybe five percent of the Ops, that are chosen. Tagged at birth, somehow, like an alarm goes off when their born or some shit I dunno. Thne they're watched. Then at fifteen, some guy shows up at Wherever The Fuck High School and gives these little geniuses some Mensa-type IQ test. If they fail, they're dropped and Ops stops watching them, they lead normal, happy lives. If they pass, they're pulled out of their little suburban school, away from their family and friends and tossed into a Special Ops training academy. They learn serious shit. Fourteen different languages, hand-to-hand combat, computer hacking, and this is all in the first year. Imagine what they know by graduation."
Elliot, speechless, ran a hand through his hair. "Well, hell. So, these kids, what happens to them?"
"Dunno," Fin said. "Resigned before I could find out. Some freaky shit goes on in that agency, Stabler. I mean, they arrest people and then they...actually, I can't tell you that. You aren't cleared to know that much. Sorry man."
"It's cool. I can just ask my fiancée," he said, grinning like a Cheshire cat when the word rolled off his tongue.
"Cats?" Olivia asked as she led three subordinates down the hall toward a holding cell. "Furry, cuddly, self-sufficient, eat-their-own-feces, cats? This woman witnesses some of the most heinous crimes on the planet and she is afraid of cats?"
"Affirmative, Commander Benson." Agent Welken said.
"How many do we have access to at the moment?"
"Thirty. From the lab. Another five, from the Rehabilitation Ward." Welken was scrolling through information on a computer-watch as they walked. "Oh. Twelve more if cat owners relinquish their felines for the task, Ma'am."
"I'm not asking subordinate agents to give up their comfort objects, Welken. Thirty is plenty." They turned down the right hall and pushed through the metal door. Olivia held her palm over the panel and the glass door to the holding cell slid open.
"M. Jeffries, you have been charged with formally communicating and conspiring with an aggressor against a member of your own operative unit. A friend." Olivia slid a transcript of the conversation she'd had with Kathy over to her and her eyes widened. As Jeffries picked up the papers, she heard a cry, not unlike a cat's meow.
"What the fuck was that, Benson?" Fear in the woman's eyes was apparent, and the smirk on Olivia's face was unmistakable.
"Sounded like a cat. The incendiary device found in Task:Stabler's vehicle was traced to , but that was simply because you used parts from his gun to make the bomb, upon further examination, your fingerprints and DNA were discovered on the components, and it was you who was partnered with Task:Stabler that day, giving you access to the car and opportunity to plant the explosive." The cat cried, louder and longer, when Olivia stopped talking.
A pretty black cat leaped up on to the table and slinked toward Jeffries. "Okay, yes. I did it. Kathy asked me to do her a favor, it wasn't going to kill him, just knock him out so Kathy could pick him up. Now, will you get rid of the damn cat?"
"No. I like it. It's pretty." She ran a delicate hand down the kitty's back and twisted a perfectly manicured finger around the feline's tail. "You also conspired with assailant to set up Task:Stabler after the initial attempt failed. You gave the offender a time and place and that, Jeffries, adds up to attempted murder." Olivia took a can of cat food out of her blazer pocket and popped it open, and suddenly the room filled with thirty cats, different breeds, shapes, sizes, temperaments and, since they were from the lab, different levels of illness.
Jeffries gasped, then screamed quietly. Olivia poked a finger into the mushy food, and very slowly pulled it out, scooping up a bit of the gross, tuna-fish like goop. "I would greatly enjoy watching this, but I find cat hair does not easily come off black Armani suits." She swiped her finger on Jeffries' cheek, wiping the cat food off on her caramel colored skin. Then, she set the can down in the shaking, nervous woman's lap. All this wouldn't have mattered if Jeffries wasn't strapped into the chair. "Thirty hungry lab cats, and only one can of food. Gee, Jeffries, what will they eat once the can is empty?"
Olivia pressed a palm to a panel. The glass door opened, and closed again once she'd gone through it. She pushed the metal door open and, hearing Monique Jeffries' blood curdling screams fading as she walked down the hall toward her HQ office, she smirked. Being Commander wasn't so bad after all.
A/N: Too much? Why do you think Fin really quit, or did he even? *doink doink* Review!?
