A/N: So first and foremost, I must say a MASSIVE thank you to alrightabigail for helping me with a passage because I was so so stuck. Thanks for believing in me! Enjoy part 3 and remember, it's just a fic! Thank you for all the lovely reviews, hopefully I am not disowned for this chapter LMAO

PART 3

"Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, Blood and revenge are hammering in my head." - William Shakespeare

There is a single, solitary moment in which her stomach drops.

It's when she wonders if Elliot knows the horrors she's seen in his absence if he knows that there are plenty of new scars on her body that accompany the old ones. She thinks perhaps in these woods, that he may inflict pain beyond the scope of which she is willing to witness.

The fleeting thought soon passes when she remembers this is Elliot. He won't become the monster he seeks to atone the world of. Her body settles, her muscles release their tension.

She's waiting in the car for him to return. The noises from the trunk have momentarily ceased, and she sits in the heavy silence as she reconciles what is going to happen. They've gone rogue before but today is something far beyond that.

Today isn't for storytelling.

Today is for absolution.

During their time setting up for today, Elliot had taken a run out to the highway exit they're currently pulled off at. It's the middle of nowhere, and she hasn't even seen a car go by since they have been on the shoulder of the road. When he returns, he places a large duffel bag and a shovel in the back seat, the latter narrowly fitting inside the small sedan.

They don't talk specifics — there's too much risk involved with it. Even as he slides into the driver's seat, they exchange a silent nod, and she lets her gaze linger over his mouth long enough she can sense when he inhales, grounding and reminding himself of their purpose tonight.

The spring air is crisp but not too cold when they step out of the vehicle half an hour later. It's late enough that they don't see any cars on their way into the heavily wooded area of the park. Elliot backs into a spot closest to the entrance to the forest, and when he cuts the engine, he looks at her again. He's still checking for signs of hesitation or guilt, but he finds none.

"Liv."

She ties her hair back in a ponytail when she meets his eye. "No backing out now, Elliot."

They get out of the vehicle in sync. Little things like this keep happening, and it makes her nerves feel fried when it occurs. The deepest, darkest parts of her want to hate him, to never be synchronized with him again.

And yet, they fall into step with each other without a word.

She carries the duffle bag and the shovel, slowly following behind Elliot, who is dragging the man by his feet into the dark forest. It's slow but steady movements until they are deep enough that the only sounds they hear are the man's pleading sobs and the gentle sway of the trees that surround them.

He yanks the hood from the man's head. He blinks rapidly, adjusting to the low light before latching his sight on the two of them standing together, looking down at him.

"Wilfried Lenski," he says lowly. "Do you know who I am?"

His body has been aching lately.

He knows it's a combination of his age and stress. Neither are gentle. They hit hard and fast, and his joints crack and pop throughout the day.

Tonight the only thing he feels is the adrenaline in his veins, pulsing through his body like electricity.

He's alive.

There are people that he's been tempted to do this with, but none more than the pathetic man that is kneeling in front of him.

"I'll ask you again, do you know who I am?"

Lenski spits at him. It doesn't hit him, only hits the dirt in front of them. Elliot lurches, his fist connecting with the man's cheek with a rough smack.

"Nothing I say will change the fact I killed her."

He kicks him this time. There's no point in bloodying his knuckles for this vile human, and it feels good to hear the subtle crack of Linsky's rib against his foot. Olivia is silent behind him, watching on as he kicks and kicks until Linsky falls forward into the dirt. The pained wheeze is therapeutic to him.

It's too late for my soul, Elliot thinks.

But perhaps his actions tonight will put the world back on its axis.

Tonight he's serving justice with his body.

It becomes slightly more real for him when he reaches into his holster and feels the polymer material of his weapon. The adrenaline thrilling his fingertips is unlike anything he's ever felt in all of his years. He wonders for a brief second if Linsky felt that same thrill the night his thumb hit the button on the detonator. The decision manifested not only the fate of his wife but his partner, his children, his future.

Justice seems far-fetched when he thinks of it coming down to a courtroom. Too pristine, too calm and quiet. The bastard doesn't deserve to sit amongst the age-old wooden benches of the court. His fate deserves to be decided on the cold, dirty soil. Even the night stars seem to offer a sense of undeserving privilege to the man. No, he wants the last sight in those eyes to be as dark and disgusting as his soul. He wants the man to stare down the business end of his barrel and ask himself if the loyalty he held for whoever called the shots was worth it.

He wants to push Kathy out of his head right now because he knows, he knows just how strongly she's begging him to step away. He can't. Even if her last wishes had quite literally been a plea for him to hang on, he couldn't find himself respecting it. His wife died on a cold metal table and any death that Elliot could think of was too good for Linsky.

Instead, he thinks of all of the demons that had ever haunted him. Any darkness that trailed him throughout his life and career. The ugly, the gruesome, the heartbreaking. If he thought about the light in any capacity, his finger wouldn't pull the trigger and he knew it. Instead, he needed to be immersed in the inky black darkness that had tainted their lives. Surrounded by it, he felt welcomed. He felt comfort. He felt familiarity for his soul.

Death was taunting him.

The only light he was allowing himself to embrace at the moment was the woman beside him, who just so seemed to be as drenched in the darkness as he was. He'd seen it in her heavily lidded eyes, the way she had plucked her consciousness out of the situation to allow the night to continue. The only light that contrasted with his darkness in a capacity he could allow. She was here, she was breathing in sync with him, she was allowing this.

It's too late for his soul, they both know it. Olivia had known it the moment she'd heard his sobs on the other end of the line. She's gone. Liv, she's gone. Oh, how she had known in that very second that Elliot was going to begin walking a tightrope between the good and the bad.

Yet, despite any discrepancies he expected her to have about how to let justice take its course, she was here. She might as well just pull the trigger with him. His entire conscience was a compass rose that revolved around her. Where she swayed left, he swayed with her. If she swayed right, he knew to follow. She wasn't turning him away, begging him to be the bigger man. That was all the justification he needed, even if it wasn't just at all.

The gun slides with ease out of the back of his pants and the emptiness on his back is palpable. The weight of the gun in his hand shouldn't be the weight of his wife's life, but it is. He knows how vain it was that her legacy had come down to a street-purchased weapon with no tracing. He hates himself for it.

Kathy, forgive me.

His hands shake and that's okay. He's allowed himself almost no room to grieve, a shaking hand is the least of his problems. He's earned this, he thinks. It doesn't matter that he can't feel his fingers because the close range cancels out the probability of missing his shot. Sure, the bullet may stray to the left and relinquish the symmetry he desired in seeing a bullet hole between the man's eyes. But in those last moments, those last breaths, Linsky will know pain as his very last sensation.

When he looks back at Olivia, her eyes are focused on him.

"What do you think, Liv?"

"Do it."

"No-"

Lenski's voice is cut off by the sound of Elliot's gun.

And just like that, his guilt is absolved.

It's the wee hours of the morning when they're finished.

They work together like a well-oiled machine. Lenski's lifeless body is wrapped and buried in the ground within half an hour. He digs, she covers the body in a plastic shower curtain straight from the package.

He noticed a faint odor when they arrived out here, and a brief search of the surrounding area results in an impressive stroke of luck for them. The hole he dug was deep enough regardless - but now it's solidified that no one will ever find the man. He drags the deer carcass that was creating the smell over to where Olivia is working and drops it, thankful for their leather gloves.

She tapes down all the basic areas of the body in the plastic to create a tight seal, and his veins still buzz with the remnants of adrenaline that remains when they both give the final shove that puts his wife's murderer in the ground.

He layers a good amount of dirt over the body and places the carcass over top to mask any smells.

It's too easy, he thinks.

And it's a thought that stays with him when they drive back to the city. They're quiet on the return home, but it isn't awkward or tense. He feels calmer, almost as if a wave of relief has flowed over him. It should be tearing him up inside, he should be wracked with guilt.

He's just glad the desire to do it again isn't there.

This was a one-time deal.

All the while, Olivia has been at his side, ruthlessly loyal even when he feels he doesn't deserve it. He isn't sure how to thank her, or if he ever should. They agreed before this to do it and not speak of it afterward, and it's a promise he intends to keep.

When they're back in the city, Elliot pulls out his phone as they begin to clean the car.

"Sloot," he murmurs into the phone. "Remember the address? Yeah, 10 pm and 3 am. Give me half an hour. Okay. Yeah," he laughs, drawing Olivia's attention. "I'll bring you one in the morning."

After he hangs up, she's still glancing over at him from where she's wiping down the surface of the dashboard with a cloth. "That was my hacker, told me to bring her a coffee to work as payment."

There's a small moment of hesitation in her movements. "What did she-"

"She doesn't look," he explains. "At least not when I ask her not to." Olivia lets out a sound in agreement, and he hears the insinuation in his voice but only laughs. "Liv, she's a kid. Can't be older than twenty."

The corners of her mouth curl up at that, and for the first time in what feels like months, years, maybe a decade - he's reminded of how simple it was to fall in love with her.

A/N: Part 4 brings all of this home, let me know if you'd like to see it!