AN:
Hi everyone, thought I'd try my hand at FF. I got inspired by some of the BTS photos coming out, I hope you enjoy.
I'm from the UK so our courts work very differently to US courts. I hope if you are from America you can forgive any errors I may have made. (I'm going off of what I've seen on L&O, so the facts are a little ropey)
If you see some very British spellings, I apologise. We tend to add U's and change Z's to S's in a lot of words. I have tried my best to correct 'honour' to 'honor' and 'organised' to 'organized' but there may have been a few that I've missed.
Feedback is always welcome.
Enjoy!
.
tick tick tick
tick tick tick
He's a coward and he knows it.
God, he never thought this day would come. The day where he would be forced to confront everything that happened last year. Everything that he has done.
Despite having done this same routine a million times, something about putting on his suit and tie this morning felt weird, as if he anticipated stepping into a trap.
Right now, he isn't sure how to define how he feels. There is no blanket label for 'my wife was brutally murdered in a car explosion because I was the one who insisted on going back to work' and that's kind of the problem.
What he would give for a handbook on grief.
A kidney or two?
The entire 30 minute journey over to central Manhattan from his apartment is spent in eerie silence. Eli sits next to him in the passenger seat, his elbow resting on the window. His hand covering his mouth. Elliot looks over at him, wanting to speak but words are failing him. His youngest son is one of the few people Elliot can read like a book.
It's a little funny considering the irony of him being named Elliot Stabler Jr.
Kathy would have laughed at that. He really was his own mini me.
They get to the courtroom early, as is expected. Climbing the stairs up to the courthouse feels endless and somehow the building he has spent more than half of his career going in and out of is looming over him, taller and more intimidating than ever.
He has to remember to take a breath.
Breathe, Elliot. Breathe. You need to be strong, for the kids.
As he walks through the doorway, he is greeted in the foyer by his children, all taking turns to hug him with the same sombre looks plastered on their faces. This was going to be difficult for all of them and he wasn't even sure he wanted them to be there, despite Dickie's persistence.
He knows Kathy's death isn't his fault. His therapist has said as much. He doesn't feel guilty but he can't quite put his finger on the aching dread he has felt humming in the background since the second that damn car blew up.
He knows his family don't blame him for their mother's death but yet he stands here and wonders how they can all look him in the eye.
She was innocent. She never chose this life. You did.
I'm sorry, Kathy.
After the initial small talk ends; asking each other how the traffic was, what they did last week and engaging with Eli about his new school. It appears the conversation has come to a natural end. They stand in comfortable silence for what feels like hours. Elliot is ok with that, he thinks. He knows he doesn't have a lot to say, anything he can conjure up is little consolation and he doesn't blame the kids for feeling the same way too.
Wheatley is going to make this whole process as painful and drawn out as possible. He knows this. One thing keeps playing on his mind though.
He hasn't told his kids about Angela.
He isn't sure Wheatley will bring it up. It is a conversation he has been putting off since the moment he knew there was going to be a trial.
It's too late now, doubt slowly starting to form in his mind. Maybe he shouldn't have ruffled as many of Wheatley's feathers as he did? Elliot wonders silently.
tick tick tick
"So it looks like we get called in around 10am" Maureen mumbles, a weak attempt at tackling the unbearable elephant in the room that surrounds all six of them.
Elliot appreciates his eldest daughter's attempt at a distraction and with a quick, halfhearted smile, nods in response. When he finally feels like he has found his words, he turns to his youngest son, "You know you don't have to be here Eli, if you don't want to be, I mean. I can get someone to pick y-"
"-It's ok Dad, I'm ok I promise. I want to be here anyway." Eli quickly interrupts and then pauses, as if he is waiting for something- a reaction.
None of them are making eye contact with each other now. It's too raw.
"For Mum." He says after a bated silence, a look of determination etched into his face.
Oh okay.
Elliot isn't really sure what to say to that.
Kathy was always the one who knew precisely what to say in difficult situations. She always joked that he was a man of few words.
He had raised his kids with Kathy but she was the one who thought on her feet, instinctively knew how to talk to the kids as equals and they always responded well to her. He wishes in this moment that she was here. She'd know what to say.
He's always had no idea what to do with his feelings, how to control them, how to convey them. In fact, he doesn't ever remember a time where he has openly talked about them. Not even to his family.
I talked to Olivia once.
He hasn't exactly been the ideal poster boy for managing grief.
His duty, his role was always working to put food on the table. Sure, he was around as much as he could be. Someone had to work. But how can he look his kids in the eyes after this if it doesn't go their way, where does he even begin?
Elliot feels like this was a mistake. He's not feeling good. The bile is threatening to creep up his throat.
tick tick tick
Only now is he starting to sweat. What is taking so long? He checks his watch. He got here at 9.40am. It's now 9.52am.
It's been 12 minutes.
It feels like he's been waiting for hours.
Elliot tugs at his collar and tie, hoping to loosen some of the tightness that grasps around his throat. His eyes flitting around for some kind of distraction from someone, anyone, to take the edge off of the nerves he feels.
He knows who he is looking for.
Thankfully, it looks like his distraction prayers are answered when Kathleen whispers, "It looks like they're starting to call people in early".
Is this relief he feels or is he growing numb? Elliot looks around at his five children. The look of determination that was on Eli's face a moment ago has swiftly disappeared and is now replaced by something that looks a lot like terror. He gulps and catches his father's gaze before looking away and straightening his back, snapping himself out of whatever cloud had fleetingly just descended on him.
Nothing more needs to be said. It is as if they are all in tune with each other, knowing how difficult this day was going to be. They filter in, single file through the big wooden doors, hoping to find some solace in the hours that come.
—
At home in her apartment, Olivia was regretting her choice to wake up that morning. She knew exactly what the day ahead entailed and frankly, she has been dreading the emotional baggage that comes along with it. She closes her eyes briefly, draping the corner of her elbow over her forehead. Wouldn't it just be easier to fall asleep and hibernate for the next week?
She glances at the clock.
09.48am
For fuck's sake.
Olivia knows she has to stop delaying the inevitable. She was supposed to be up and getting ready at 9am so now she was 48 minutes behind schedule and in a terrible mood.
After dropping Noah off the previous night to join Jesse and Billie at Amanda's, Carisi had kindly (reluctantly) volunteered to fill the role of fun Uncle Carisi / Princess Sonny for the day. He knew what she was up against today and offered to help out.
She's on the witness stand today.
It's already a mess, as far as she is concerned. After several preliminary hearings, one in front of the Grand Jury, Richard Wheatley decides that he wants to represent himself.
Of course he does.
Jackass.
The issues have only seemed to stack from there.
The judge seemed to think Carisi had a conflict of interest navigating the prosecution, letting them know with a mere two days notice. You're a jackass too, Your Honor. The prosecution is now going to be led by Counsellor Williams instead, a stern looking man from Long Island who has credentials filled up to his eyeballs. That's something, I guess.
This particular bomb drops after a relentless 48 hours, as Carisi finishes up prepping her for everything Wheatley could throw at her.
Naturally, Carisi was pissed.
It went down really well.
Princess Sonny was banished to kids duty.
She knows how this all works, she's done it hundreds of times. She isn't allowed to sit in the courtroom during the testimonials of the people called to the stand prior to her so she misses Sasha Linsky's uncle taking the stand.
After being given a doomsday time of 11am, she makes a mental note to not get there a second earlier.
—
In typical Benson fashion, she walks into the courtroom late.
She steps in and her eyes are soon tracing the room for the nearest bench. Thankfully for her (or unfortunately), it looks like court recess is also slightly delayed. She takes a moment to scan the room for faces.
Ayanna. Fin. Amanda.
Kathleen. Oh, a Stabler.
Maureen. Dickie. Elizabeth. Eli.
Eli?
What on earth is he doing here?
Where's Elliot?
How many Stabler's is she up to now?
She thinks she's counted up to 5.
She squints to the right hand side of the courtroom. Her eyesight isn't as good as it used to be and she knows it but putting on her bifocal glasses is not an option. It's just about as obvious as it gets.
Focus, Olivia, focus. You blind old bat.
She understands she can't exactly whip them out to survey the surroundings for who she wants to see. Who she knows is here.
His blurry figure starts to form and that's when she sees it. A vacant seat next to Amanda. One that she knows Amanda saved for her. Remind yourself to thank Amanda later, she thinks. Elliot is sat on the other side of her, an aisle width away on the bench parallel.
She walks over and sits down, turning just in time to see Elliot giving her a faint smile. She smiles back.
Since that fateful night of the letter, Olivia had seen Elliot only a handful of times. All meetings since then have been clouded by small talk and filled with smiles that don't quite reach their eyes. She knows he wants to talk to her. She knows him all too well, 10 year disappearance or not.
You used to. Amanda's voice ricochets around in her head. Olivia tries to shake these thoughts loose.
The other day he nearly went as far as bringing up the letter, in her squad room before Olivia raised her hand and shook her head.
"We don't need to go there, Elliot. I don't want to discuss it."
She thinks she saw a momentary flicker of pain in his eyes but he disguised it quickly and Olivia was too emotionally exhausted to comment on it. So she pretended she never saw it and they left it alone.
And now here they are.
Just another mess to dissect and add on to your six feet long list of issues.
"Recess is now over. The State of New York versus Richard Wheatley. Docket ending 563829"
Richard Wheatley stumbles back into the courtroom then, hands cuffed together. He's wearing an expensive looking suit that's mostly crinkle-free. He is a proud man, that much she knows. His suit has to be worth more than her entire jewellery collection, she notices- and don't even get her started on the watch that he seems to be flashing. Despite his haughty appearance, evidence of the complications in his case seem to have taken effect in the form of dark bags under his eyes.
She isn't sure what she has missed but Olivia chuckles inwardly as she thinks this is the first time she's ever seen this man rattled in the slightest.
That is, until he scans the room and pauses upon seeing her, refusing to break eye contact- he leers at her. Olivia begins to feel goosebumps rising on her arms. All humour has since stagnated and now she feels sick. Maybe rattled isn't the right word.
tick tick tick
tick tick tick
She doesn't have to turn her head to know Elliot's eyes are boring a hole into the back of her skull after witnessing the interaction between the two. She remembers the conversation she had with him after Wheatley ran her off the road, a few months back.
"I think it was Wheatley, Liv. He said he was coming after anyone important to me." He breathily says over the phone. The panic becoming more and more evident in his tone of voice.
"I thought they were empty threats, Liv, I swear. I'm so sorry." He pauses, not knowing what to say next.
"It's ok, Elliot. Please, stop apologising. I'm ok. We'll figure it out." Olivia stops.
"Maybe the universe was trying to give me a sign about attending social events." She laughs nervously.
He doesn't laugh.
"I mean it, Liv. I need you to be safe. Promise me you'll have someone watching your six"
"Fin always watches my six, I promise. Now get some sleep before Ayanna gives me a piece of her mind tomorrow."
That was before the letter. Before the undercover assignment. Before everything between them became one big, fat, stinking m-
"Your Honor, we'd like to call Captain Olivia Benson to the stand"
She doesn't seem to acknowledge her name at first, until Amanda is poking her elbow into her ribs and whispering 'Liv' with urgency.
Oh shit
—
"Hi Captain Benson, I can call you that can't I, Olivia?"
Wheatley's grin at his own disastrously unfunny joke grows larger by the second.
Why is he so smug?
She fights her imagination trying to simulate Richard receiving a right hook to the face.
Olivia personally thinks he looks like the cheshire cat from Alice In Wonderland when he smiles like that.
A demonic cheshire cat.
"You can call me that, Richard." She says simply.
Richard starts to pace in front of the jury, his hands moving further up his tie, adjusting the toggle at the top. She looks over at the jury at this point too. They all look nice enough. Please see through his sliminess, she hopes.
"The prosecution has spent the last 45 minutes attempting to explain the 'clear'-" Richard pauses to make a point of making air quotation marks.
"- pattern of aggression from me.
Counsellor Williams believes that you are what makes this a pattern. That I have now made two attempts on your life?"
He emphasises the number, making a small gasp in the process. Pretending to be horrified.
It takes everything in Olivia's soul not to roll her eyes at that moment. She knows that if she did, they would never stop. She glances past Wheatley for a second, looking at her old partner and the blue orbs that are staring back at her. She catches him just as he finishes rolling his eyes.
Always so in sync.
With a smirk threatening to break out, she takes the opportunity to try to cover it up.
"Well that's what happened, Richard."
"So, in addition to the distinct lack of evidence you have that I supposedly had a phone in a high security prison, how can you be sure I sent the text to your phone and then hired someone to run you off the road?"
She is trained for this. She turns to the jury then.
"As part of the Organized Crime Unit, we have specialized computer analysts trained to deal with hacking, keeping our information safe so that we can use our technology without putting anybody's lives on the line.
My old partner, a member of this unit, was warned by one after looking into my phone and the text I received- that the phone would be untraceable for some time.
The text was sent under the pretence of my old partner, who was at the time investigating another case involving Mr Wheatley."
She pauses while Wheatley sighs loudly.
"The second attempt on my life was with a black SUV, typically the type of car used by Mr Wheatley and the partners he associates business with. "
and half of Manhattan but we won't mention that, she thinks.
"The number plates were run through the system. Nothing was found but it was discovered that the phone used to text me was located at the exact same place and time as the accident. The phone has not been turned on since but with the knowledge we now have, we believe it was the same person."
Wheatley, who is pacing back and forth, swivels 180 degrees while tapping his forefinger on his chin.
"Ah I see. This all sounds awfully promising but you don't exactly have the best track record at being honest, do you Captain Benson?"
Olivia scoffs, "I'm the Captain of a unit I've worked in for 23 years, I've been an expert in countless court cases. I took an oath."
At this point, she notices something strange. Fin and Amanda shift in their seats in the corner of her eye and when she looks over- the horror etched into their expressions confuse her. What is up with those two?
She doesn't have to ask herself that same question a second time because she's a Captain now and the answer hits her straight in the face.
It's hard to describe the moment it all clicks because an invisible force collides into her body. It winds her. She realizes where Richard's train of thought is going.
Not yet, please not yet.
I've not told him yet.
She doesn't dare look over at Elliot.
She knows her heart rate is climbing, her breathing is quickening and she is trying with every cell in her body to keep her face calm and still. Don't react, stay calm Olivia.
"But, you've lied on the stand before. In 2013 during the case of People versus William Lewis, isn't that right Olivia?"
Olivia can't tell if it's the mere mention of his name, the rush of blood building in her ears or the visceral shock of what is about to unfold but she must have missed the 'Objection! Relevance?' from Counsellor Williams because the judge takes one look at her before allowing the questioning to continue.
"It all plays down to her reliability as a witness, Your Honor" Richard grins.
She's really not missed the panic attacks. The metaphorical butcher's knife that rips through her lungs. Any sense of coherence has long since fractured before her very eyes, she knows this because of the slickness in her palms as she rubs her hands face down on her trousers.
You need to calm down, Olivia. You need to concentrate. This isn't just any case.
"You may answer, Captain Benson."
I don't want to answer
She holds her eye contact with Richard.
"That was an admission under severe duress. One where a 12 year old girl's life was at stake. I have always been truthful on the stand.", she lies.
Olivia knows she should feel relieved that she has fallen straight back into the borderline dissociative routine that was the Lewis trial and questioning, but she can't feel anything. Her face and hands are numb, she's not even sure they still work. Being questioned about Lewis isn't normally an issue for her, she thinks. She knows her triggers, how to tackle being asked about him.
In fact, she knows herself so well that right now, she knows exactly why she's beginning to fall apart.
She still has no idea if Elliot even knows, whether he heard about it and decided not to visit. He left her for ten years and they still haven't talked about it. She's being pushed into a corner like a beaten dog, under oath, with all of her friends and family staring at her and there's nothing she can do about it.
PTSD has a funny way of sneaking up on you, doesn't it? Welcome home, Detective Benson.
If she wasn't so terrorized by her emotions, she thinks she may actually laugh.
She glances at the door at the back of the courtroom, behind Wheatley's shoulder and briefly wonders how long it would take to leg it past her friends and family, out the door.
OLIVIA, FOCUS.
She can hear Wheatley talking but she's being hit over and over again by waves of nausea. She's suffocating and it feels like she's been sent out into the middle of the ocean to drown.
Keep yourself distracted.
Olivia starts to twiddle her fingers, keeping what's left of the sensation in the tips of her hands, ignoring the way her eyes are beginning to sting.
You're going to ruin this case, snap out of it.
Blink
Blink now, Olivia.
Tick tick tick
The detonator is ready to go off any minute.
"Olivia, are you still with us?" Wheatley snaps his fingers.
She realizes she has been zoning out in her desperate attempt to regain some self-control.
"Oh- uh, sorry- could you please repeat the question?" She manages to choke out.
So her mouth does still work, that's good news. Right?
"Can you tell the court the events that led to this admission, please?"
—
AN: Up next- Boom?