A/N: A .44 full of bullets. Face full of pale. Eyes full of empty. A stare full of nails. (Rage Against the Machine) For the sake of this story, the timelines of some cases and details have been altered.

DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story, words, and dialogue are mine. © TStabler

"Stop mumbling under your breath," Olivia cracks, handing Elliot a cup of coffee as she leans her own mug against her lips. She watches him sip while she does the same, and when she swallows she says, "Cragen called you in on this because we needed the extra hands, don't give him a reason to send you back home."

He nods and sighs, sips his coffee again, and eyes the white pinboard in front of him. "Don't expect me to play nice." He crosses one arm over his chest and sips his coffee again, only to keep from growling as he glares across the room at the younger detective who has yet to wander back to his own unit: Falsone. "Why's he still fucking here?"

"Because when our three rapes became three homicides," she starts, and she nudges him with her elbow. "We sort of had to tell, ya know...Homicide." She shakes her head and whispers, "Calm down, he's…"

"Staring at you like he wants to eat you," Elliot hisses, and he turns to her and lowers his voice. "I'm the only one that gets to fucking eat you."

"I'm the only one you'd better fucking be eating," she snarks back, and she raises a challenging eyebrow at him. "We both know it's the damn truth, so stop seething like an active volcano and focus." She brings her coffee mug to her lips and then slaps her hand against his chest. "If we go now, we can get out of here without even having to talk to him. We got a live vic at Saint Mark's, maybe she can…"

"Olivia," Paul Falsone saunters over, swagger in his step and a heavy grin on his face. He ignores Elliot, folds his arms, widens his stance, and licks his lips. "I got tickets to the Met tonight, Beliini's La Sonnambula, I figured we could…"

"You like Opera?" Elliot scoffs, his fingers are curling themselves into fists and his blood pressure is soaring like an angry Bald Eagle. "Nice try, she already saw it," he says snidely, and he pats himself on the back for spending the extra money for two full season subscriptions.

Falsone finally turns, gives him a narrow eyed sneer, and says, "Maybe she wants to see it again." He jerks his neck back and forth and smiles at Olivia. "So how about it?"

Olivia offers him a soft, apologetic smile, as she pulls her coat on over her plum-colored shirt. "I told you, I'm seeing someone. But thank you for the offer."

"What's this guy got that I don't?" Falsone asks with a cockeyed smirk. "I know it can't be much."

Olivia chuckles, fishes the keys to the sedan out of her pocket, and leans into him. She looks into his eyes and blinks once, and then she says, "Me."

Elliot laughs silently, gives Falsone a placating pat on the shoulder, and says, "Stop asking, you're getting on her nerves." He doesn't wait for Falsone's response, he grabs his long, beige trench coat and folds it over his arm. He whistles as he follows Olivia out into the hall and he furtively runs his right hand down her back, resting it on the curve of her ass as he leads her toward the stairs.

"Hands," she snips, and when his answer is to move his hand lower and palm her ass as they walk down the cement steps, she rolls her eyes. "Jesus, you don't have to do this with me, Elliot. I'm not going anywhere, you don't need to…"

"Mine," is all he says, squeezing the round of her ass in his hand. He slaps it hard and then uses his own body to push the alley door open. "I had plans for you, tonight, and if we don't get to the bottom of this…"

"Kids are with Kathy, right?" she says and she presses the button on the fob to unlock their beat up maroon car. "So what's the rush? Whether we get home at ten tonight or three in the morning, place is gonna be empty, so whatever you planned…"

"You said…" he pauses and he looks over the hood of the car at her. "You said we, when we get home." He catches the keys as she tosses them to him, and he smiles brightly, shaking his head. "You don't know...what that fucking means to me."

She grins back at him as she opens her door, the way he's looking at her makes her stomach flip, and she sinks into the car's seat as her eyes slide shut. One hand drapes over her stomach, the other latches her seatbelt into place. She drops her head back against the seat and the scene replies in her mind.

He'd barrelled into the squadroom, scowling and yelling, directing a moderate amount of rage at Cragen. "You tell me to keep my ass home for three days, then you call begging me to come in! Make up your fucking mind, Captain, I'm either a liability or a necessity!"

"Both," Cragen had barked back, "Over there, Benson will catch you up, the bastard hit too close to home, this time."

She inhales sharply as she hears the car start, he asks her a question that doesn't register and she hums in a way she hopes is the right answer. She can't get the fiery look in his eyes out of her mind, she can't forget the way his chest rose and fell with heavy breath, his fury has always turned her on, but now it sends chills and heat to parts of her body that he'd only just awakened and she doesn't know how to suppress it anymore.

"God damn it, I was in the middle of…" he had let out a grunt, rolled his eyes, and finished tying the knot in his tie as he'd stalked over to Olivia. "What's so Goddamned important I had to put on a fucking suit?"

She'd had to fight the urge to moan at the way his neck throbbed under his collar. "County Clerk and one of the interns in the DA's office," she'd whispered to him as she'd led him to the back table. She'd fixed two cups of coffee, nearly identical, handed him one and held the other in both of her hands. "Clerk was…" she'd looked down at the spotty floor. "DOA. The intern is in the way to the hospital, Munch is still down at the courthouse."

"This happened at the courthouse?" he'd asked, his hot breath falling against her face, seducing her.

She'd stared at his lips for a moment too long, had to force her eyes upward. She'd swallowed her coffee like a mouthful of nails. "Yeah, this guy's got balls." She'd scoffed. "Big ones." She'd lowered her voice. "I left the apartment, what, five minutes before Cragen called you in? What the hell could you have been doing that's got you so…"

"Fucking look down," he'd spat, and he'd watched her head move, watched her eyes widen and flicker with something he'd recognized as both lust and the need to service him. He'd tugged on his tie once and sipped his coffee as he'd watched her lick her lips. He'd chuckled to himself as he'd handed her his coffee mug. "Refill? Please?"

She'd taken the cup from him with a cold stare, all of the heat in the room had rushed between her legs. She'd simply nodded and watched him move back toward his desk while she fixed two more cups of coffee, making hers a lot stronger and darker than it had been.

"Liv," his voice calls, and when she snaps her head up and her eyes pop open, he tilts his head. "We're here, you sure you're okay?"

"Fine," she says flatly. She gets out of the car before he can say anything else, and she digs her billfold out of her pocket, flapping it open and holding it up to the guard at the doors. She nods at the man, then walks through the sliding glass and up to the front desk. "Detective Benson," she says, and she points a finger to Elliot. "Detective Stabler," she says. She looks closely at the nurse's name tag and smiles. "Jessica, is it? We need to know the status of a rape victim, Bettina Amador."

"Amador," the nurse at the station types rapidly into a computer. "She's been moved to recovery, third floor, room three-fifteen."

Olivia slaps the top of the counter and moves fast, knowing Elliot is right next to her, and she takes a sharp left and runs up the stairs.

Elliot stays half a step behind her, enjoying the view, plotting the many ways he can lavish that perfect ass with the attention it deserves, and he's about to voice one of his ideas when he hears her phone ring. He waits, and when his doesn't immediately follow suit, he grabs her elbow. "Answer it," he demands.

She squints at him as she pulls her phone out of her pocket, doesn't look at it before sliding the icon to answer the call, brings the device to her ear and says, "Benson."

"It's him, isn't it?" he breathes, one palm is flat against the door and the other is on her hip, toying with the chain link of her handcuffs. When she rolls her eyes and nods once, he huffs, "That sleazy son of a bitch," and he digs his fingertips into the skin of her hip.

She lets her lips curl slightly at his possessiveness, briefly she wonders if he'd been so brazenly overprotective and jealous with Kathy. The thought makes her nauseous, and she stops Falsone from saying anything else. "Look, it's not gonna happen, Paul. I'm…" she only pauses for a beat. "I'm getting married." She hears him say something and she smiles, looks down at the tiles under her feet, and the lie hurts more than she'd thought it would. "Thank you. You, too." She hangs up and knocks into the swinging door with her shoulder, taking them into the third floor corridor. "Three-fifteen," she says softly, and her eyes focus on the numbers on the wall as they walk.

"You told him...you said you were getting married," he almost whispers, and he feels his left ring finger tingle and twitch, as if claiming it's ready for round two. "Does that mean you would…"

"It got him to back off, didn't it?" she heaves. She knows it was impulsive, she gets that it's too complicated to even suggest it. "Here," she says, pointing to a closed door. She knocks three times. "Bettina? It's Detectives Benson and Stabler, we just want to…"

The woman calls to them, tells them to come in, and as Olivia turns the handle and pushes the door open, Elliot takes the reins. "Bettina, we have a couple of questions, are you up for this?"

Bettina Amador blinks her bruised eyes and nods, hissing in pain as she tries to sit up. She refuses Olivia's help and then says, "I was in a conference room, Susan and I were stamping transcripts from the week's cases, we both heard the door lock."

"So he was already in the room," Elliot gathers, and he whips out a notebook and pen, clicks it, and starts taking notes. He notices that the woman is looking directly at him, completely avoiding Olivia, and it's the first time he's seen this happen. Usually, it's the other way around. "He has to be someone you know, did you get a good look at him?"

Amador nods and folds her bruised, cut hands over her stomach. "I'm sure he thought I was dead, I made sure... I was perfectly still, I don't think I was even breathing. Wait, he doesn't know I'm alive, does he? Does he know I'm talking to you?"

"Calm down, no," Elliot says, and he slowly steps forward. "He doesn't know anything, that's why we need you to tell us everything you can, so we find him before he can hurt anyone else." He offers a smile, shoots Olivia a concerned look, and then says. "So can you tell us what he looked like? If you...if you know him?"

Amador takes a breath, it obviously hurts, and again she swipes away Olivia's attempts at assisting her. "I'm fine, I just…" she finally looks at Olivia. "Please, don't touch me," she almost whispers.

Olivia winces, completely understanding, and she simply nods. "What can you tell us? Anything at all will help…"

"He was tall, um…" Amador starts. "Thick hands, I didn't see his face he...he was behind me the whole time, but he...I remember his cologne and there's only one person in the building that wears that...musky, herbal…" she cringes and grips the sheets in her hands. "I think it was Hector." She swallows and looks up at Elliot. "Hector Salazar."

"Former cop," Elliot spits, and he closes his notebook. "Get some rest, Miss Amador, we will…" he eyes Olivia, "Come back if we need anything else, but this…" he drops his eyes to the scared woman again. "You've been very...very brave, incredibly helpful." He catches Olivia's eyes and jerks his head, then leads her out of the room.

"Want me to call it in? Get a twenty on this guy?" she asks him, and she can tell by the way he's walking that he's trying to keep his legendary temper in check. "El?"

"A cop," he spits, and he punches the swinging doors, making them whip open. "A fucking cop! I'm the one everyone is constantly accusing of being a fucking disgrace to the badge but this hump is out there raping and killing and…"

"You're not," she says, and she places both of her hands on his chest, stopping his tirade. "You're not a disgrace to anybody or anything, Elliot. Especially the badge." Her right hand slips down his chest, she hears his breath hitch, feels his muscles twitch, and she wraps her long fingers around his gold shield. "You wear this thing so fucking proudly, you are the living breathing embodiment of everything this fucking thing stands for, and the only disgrace I can see, here, is that you aren't higher up on the Goddamned food chain than you…"

He kisses her hard, deep, but it's short and rough. When he pushes her away he takes a breath. "Let's go get this son of a bitch," he barks, and he slaps her ass to coax her down the stairs. His mind races. His final divorce hearing is in less than forty-eight hours, he knows shit is about to hit the fan, and he knows that he isn't the only one it's all going to rain down on. He's still pissed off at Cragen for not only interrupting a moment of tension relief he'd so desperately needed but for being a thorn in his side for the last two hours. On top of it all, he's harder than a lead pipe, Olivia had been the one to push him down and put him in his place twice today and his cock yearns to give her more control.

There's so much he wants to do to her, for her, with her, and every minute spent at work is one less moment he gets to live out his desires. As they head back out through the lobby, he's hit with another realization.

Now, he's furious at Salazar, someone he'd once considered a friend. Another cop turned criminal without any remorse at all, and he has to be the one to dole out the punishment, and it all reminds him of his father, Southerland, Cragen. His blood boils and he knows he's turning red. Liv," he says, and when she looks over her shoulder at him, he clenches his jaw. "When we find Salazar," he starts, and he rolls his neck and hears the way it cracks. "Keep him the fuck away from me."

A/N: Next: Salazar pays for his crimes, Kathy pays a visit, Falsone tries again, for the last time? And maybe they do need safe words...then again, maybe not. Review? Meep?