She wants to be okay. This is not her. Well, it wasn't her. Now, she's not so sure.
She's never been emotional or clingy. Doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve. Has been through hell and back without a single tear cascading down her cheek. She's fierce. Unaffected. Showing her true colors is not something she does, so she keeps herself cocooned, enshrouded in shadows. Black. Gray. Finds comfort in her mysterious, mundane, dark existence.
But all that has changed since she joined OCCB.
She's never really felt this way before. Her colleagues are her colleagues, but this is more. They are starting to feel like family, and she's not sure how to react or respond to that realization. She never thought she'd allow herself to get this close to strangers.
She remembers a Mitch Albom quote from a book she read in English class: Strangers are just family you have yet to come to know. She scoffed at it then and rolled her eyes while her classmates gushed over the words. Now, she feels it. She understands.
Her sergeant, who looks out for her like a big sister would. Commanding the room with professionalism, but always finding time to privately connect with her. To make sure she's okay. A friend.
Malachi, who very much is not a colleague but loved working with him all the same. It's nice to be challenged, to match wits with someone who shares a twin brain. He is not a bad kisser either.
There's Cho and Maldonado, who round out their team well. They are smart and trustworthy- they know their jobs and do them. They treat her with respect; they've got her back.
And then there's Stabler.
When she first met him, she was irritated and intrigued. He came across all bully and bluster, just as his reputation foretold. However, his wife had just been killed, which is hardly a time to make good first impressions. He was unraveled and traumatized.
But then the little cracks in his armor surfaced, and she got to see the legend underneath the bravado and Italian suits. Yes, there was the history of violence: the fatalities in his file, the unorthodox interrogations, the IAB reviews and psych evals, the paperwork that accentuated the problems and pardons. But, there was also his brilliance as a veteran detective, without the expected smug bastard archetype. He's a team player, appreciates and listens to everyone's input (well, when he's not exacting revenge), and he's incredibly kind. He has soft edges and an insatiable work ethic. She's seen him laugh and cry and rage. She can tell that being a detective in SVU and a dad to five has shaped the man he is today.
What impresses her the most is observing the man he becomes around Captain Benson.
Jet's a hacker by trade, therefore knows way too much about their shared history. She regrets it now, but when she first met Stabler, she made it her mission to learn everything about him. About halfway through her deep dive into blocked and restricted databases, she began to feel like she was trespassing on hallowed ground as she unearthed the relationship between these two NYPD legends. Gifted at reading between the lines, she could see the bond these two once shared- the life force that encompassed the 1-6 and makes Tutuola laugh that little knowing laugh whenever the two of them are mentioned in conversation. They were platonic, as far as she could tell, but were soulmates nonetheless. And they were incredible to watch all these years later.
Maybe that's why she hugged him. Not only did she not want Stabler to leave her life, but she didn't want his kids to be orphans, and she didn't want to see Captain Benson live through his painful loss twice.
No. If she's honest, she hugged him because she was scared. She hugged him because it's been a shit year and she shot someone and no one ever told her how emotional that would be and everything felt weird and frightening and too close. She has a fondness for him, hell, even loves the guy like a father, and the thought of a hit placed on him turned her insides to jello. She didn't want to let him go, wanted to protect him at all costs, and was petrified that an assassin could potentially outsmart them all.
So, she hugged him, in the middle of headquarters, in front of their sergeant. It was unexpected and unprofessional and unwarranted (and a lot of other uns), and she's been chastising herself about it since it happened. Because it was fucking awkward. Because he was completely caught off-guard. Because he's an almost sixty-year-old man who doesn't hug his coworkers as a general rule of thumb.
She's shaky and insecure and worries that she will now always feel weird around him. She also worries that now he will see her as a small, helpless child instead of the badass she's crafted herself to be. That he will no longer value her contributions as a teammate. That he'll flinch if they ever partner up in the field. What a mess.
"Jet, come over here and sit with me."
Why she agreed to this tonight, she has no clue. She's not in the right mindset, edgy and frustrated, one step away from screaming into the abyss, and Bell insisted she tag along for drinks. That they all needed to unwind after the months they've had, that it would be good for morale.
Bell didn't mention that the SVU squad would also be joining in.
So here she is, trying to melt into the wall holding her up when the great Captain Olivia Benson beckons her to her table. Captain Benson is alone for the time being, her squad playing a round of darts that she passed on to watch and heckle from the sidelines. Jet's completely enamored by this woman, who seems relaxed and happy. She does not want to embarrass herself, so she stands still as if she didn't hear her. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
"That's an order, Detective."
At this, Jet rolls her eyes, stomps over, and sits awkwardly, eliciting a chuckle from the captain.
Olivia Benson looks at her with worried, knowing eyes. "You okay?"
"Yeah, why?"
"You just seem like you want to talk about something, but you don't know where to begin. That wall was doing a good job of holding itself up before you tried to blend into it."
"I'm that obvious, huh?" She fingers her glass, wishing there was something stronger in it than watered-down whiskey.
"I can tell this wasn't your idea to come. Did Bell drag you here?"
"Something like that. She thought it would be good for me, for the team."
"She's right. Unwinding with the people that know the job the only way we do– there's a camaraderie in that. When you implicitly trust the people you're with, that's a bond you need to foster."
God, this woman is incredible, Jet thinks to herself. An icon, soulful and filled with such poise and wisdom. And she's talking to her like a friend and colleague. She feels herself start to break, her cocoon disintegrating. Ah, what the hell.
"How long does it take… I mean… does it ever go away?"
Olivia cocks a curious brow. "Does what go away?"
"This feeling…" She knows she's being evasive and just needs to spit it out. "I don't know… I didn't expect to be so upset about shooting a criminal, and now I'm weird and emotional and I hugged Stabler and now he thinks I'm a freak, and-"
"Whoa, whoa, slow down. It's okay. Let's start from the beginning. Take a breath."
Jet stammers, already irritated with herself for her outburst. Captain Benson is so kind, giving her space but keeping her concerned eyes locked on her gestures. She's reading her with trained eyes, which she hates but secretly loves since she doesn't want to elaborate further on her emotional state.
"Jet, I'm so sorry you had to go through that, especially early in your career. Most cops go their entire lives without ever having to draw their weapons. Being in an elite unit comes with greater responsibility and greater risk. Unfortunately, it comes with the territory of being in OCCB and SVU. You did nothing wrong. You know that, right? If you didn't stop him, you or your fellow officers would have died. It was a good call and a clean shoot."
"Logically, I know the ramifications. I've played out all of the what-if scenarios. I don't regret what I had to do, I just…" She can't voice the feeling of pulling her trigger, the adrenaline rush that took hours to dissipate, the way her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Captain Benson nods, not needing Jet's words to understand her dilemma. "These emotions take time. Even now, I'll remember something from a shooting from years ago, and it will haunt me. You wouldn't be a good cop if it didn't stick with you."
Years ago. It makes Jet wonder how often she's been in these situations. "How many-"
"Six."
"Wow."
"Yeah, and that's not counting physical altercations, near misses, the almosts that thankfully didn't happen. Six is the number of actual shootings, the last one on Christmas Day."
Shit. Jet felt the ground opening up at her feet, and she prayed it would swallow her whole. She forgot about Captain Benson's latest shooting, too wrapped up in her own circumstances. "I'm sorry, I forgot."
"No, no need to apologize. It is what it is. Jet, PTSD is real. It's important that you recognize it and talk things through with someone you trust. A family member, colleague, or friend. I'm here. I'm not saying you need to see a therapist, although mine has helped tremendously over the years."
"You see a therapist?" Jet shouldn't be surprised, but the woman before her seems superhuman at times. The fact that she is openly discussing therapy is something Jet wasn't expecting tonight. She's beginning to feel a lot less alone.
Olivia hesitates for a beat, and Jet worries that she overstepped or sounded too incredulous. However, she seems to be crafting her next disclosure carefully. "There's a reason why I didn't go to Elliot's Combat Cross ceremony. These medals come with a penance. We both know the price Elliot paid for that medal. And… you know the price I paid for mine."
At this, Jet sharply meets Olivia's eyes, with mutual respect and understanding between them.
"C'mon, Jet, you're a computer wizard. I know you've seen my files. You know how I earned my cross. And that's why I didn't go to Elliot's ceremony. Too many triggers."
"Captain, I didn't go through your records, but I know what happened. I was in high school and-"
"-I know– my face was plastered everywhere."
"I followed your story, followed the case. I studied you in my Criminal Justice class. In case we never get to talk like this again… you're my reason. I mean, I chose my field of study because computers are my life, but I chose the NYPD because of you."
"Wow, Jet, I… I'm not sure what to say."
They sit in amiable silence for a minute, sipping their drinks and smiling at Fin and Carisi bantering by the dart board. Jet's mind is now fully fixated on Captain Benson's past, and a glimmer of a mystery is flickering in her brain.
"Does Stabler...?"
"He doesn't know, I don't think. At this point, I'm surprised no one has said anything."
"Are you going to tell him about it?"
"I will. Soon. Just never seems to be the right time-"
"Right time for what?" At that precise moment, Elliot slides into the booth, setting drinks down for her and Olivia. Jet freezes, shooting a wary glance at Captain Benson, who seems unfazed, smiling gently.
"We were talking about the job. Jet's joined us in an unfortunate club- just making sure she's good. El, you've got an amazing detective on your team."
"Don't I know it. She's brilliant, isn't she?" He grins at Jet like a proud dad, and it's about all she can handle. She feels herself sinking further into her seat as raw, unfiltered tears spring to her eyes. She tries to blink them away, but both seasoned detectives notice.
"Jet, what's going on? What are you thinking about? Talk to us." Olivia cautiously places her hand on Jet's elbow, as Elliot leans in, wrinkles of concern grazing his features.
She finds her voice, barely above a murmur. "I'm sorry I hugged you."
Elliot emits a chuckle, but it isn't condescending, sarcastic, or dismissive. It's parental, the aha realization that puts everything into perspective. "Is that why you've been a little distant lately?"
"I just, honestly, tell me if I fucked up."
Elliot takes a long swig of beer, and Jet feels like time has stood still. Finally, he looks at her with laserlike focus. "You want honesty? When I first met you, I was immediately protective of you. Not because I didn't think you could do your job, but because you remind me so much of my daughters. I hope that doesn't offend you, I would never want you to feel uncomfortable."
"It doesn't."
"Good. Don't worry, I still think you're a badass. You're allowed to show emotion, Jet. I expect it- you cannot let this job get the best of you. Take it from someone that's been there- the worst thing you can do is bottle it up. I was messed up for a long time because I didn't talk about what happened. And I lost a big piece of myself in the process."
Jet thinks he's talking about losing his wife, but that's not it. She sees the way he looks at Captain Benson while he talks, and the captain appears mesmerized by his confessional demeanor. Jet looks on, camouflaged, a ghost amongst powerful memories.
"I lost a lot of good people in my life. My squad. My captain. My partner and best friend."
Bingo.
She watches Captain Benson, eyes misty and reverent, and they seem in a world all their own. Jet wonders if this is the first time such an honest revelation has transpired between the two of them in a decade. This is the magic that Fin referenced when he shared bits and pieces about their old days.
As if on cue, Fin interrupts the reverie. "Hey, Liv- you guys want in on darts?"
Captain Benson grins at Stabler before grabbing her drink and scooting out of the booth. "Definitely. We have to see what Sloot's really made of." She winks at Jet before sauntering over to the dart board and her squad. As Jet gets out of her seat, Elliot gently stops her.
"Listen, you remind me of more than just my daughters. You remind me of someone else. Someone who is fiercely loyal. A protector. Someone who also lets the job take advantage of her, lets it chew her up and spit her out, but she comes back, day after day, ready to tackle the work. Someone who always has my back, whose squad adores and respects her." As he's talking, he nods in the direction of Olivia, and Jet's heart swells despite herself. This might be the greatest compliment ever bestowed upon her, and she fights back the tears that have been threatening to fall all evening.
"Would it be weird if I hugged you again?"
"Come here, kid." Elliot pulls her into a sideways embrace. Jet breaks away quickly, much like the first time, and Elliot huffs out a laugh. "C'mon, let's go kick their asses at darts."
"Sure about that? Captain Benson looks like she is ready to kick your ass."
Elliot lights up with a thousand-watt smile, and Jet discovers that this is their love language. Competition, indomitable spirit, fire, ice. Typically she would want to vomit for even considering the very idea of a love language, but she finds herself quietly rooting for these two to figure out their shit.
"You know, Stabler, I think she is really glad you're back."
Elliot sobers, his smile fading to reveal a reproachful frown. "Well, I'm not sure glad is the right word. I've caused her a lot of pain. Got a lot to make up for. But, this is a good start."
"Hmmm... darts- sharp weapons, the perfect game. Maybe ax-throwing next?" Jet smirks as Stabler laughs.
"Hey, whose side are you on?"
"Mine," Olivia interrupts. "Jet's with me, against you and Fin. Losers buy a round of chili fries."
Elliot shrugs, mirth dancing in his eyes. "You heard the boss."
Jet looks around at their combined teams. Carisi and Rollins are awfully cozy in a corner booth. Ayanna, Cho, Maldonado, and Velasco are at the bar, trading stories with animated gestures. And it didn't take a detective to notice brushed, lingering fingertips when Elliot handed the darts to Olivia. Jet steals a look at Fin, who is grinning like a fool. She's pretty sure the entire NYPD knows about the betting pool, and Fin is already counting his money.
While she knows her feelings about the shooting will not miraculously disappear, she has to admit, Bell was right. This is nice.