"Law and Order: SVU" belongs to Dick Wolf and Universal Television. No profit is being made from this story.
A/N: Names mentioned in this chapter bear no intentional resemblance to any real people.
He collapsed in on himself when he actually realized what he had said out loud.
He started to shiver hard, as if his body had just registered the fact that he had spent the last few hours outside with no coat on, and crumpled forward like his stomach ached, gripping the chair. He began gasping hard and fast in a panic.
He looked at her desperately and Olivia closed the distance between them quickly, worried he was about to end up on the floor if he kept that up much longer. He looked seconds away from a full-blown hyperventilation attack.
"Breathe, Elliot," she urged him, cupping his face with one hand. He immediately expelled a breath loudly like he couldn't stop it. "Just relax and breathe."
She circled her arms around his shoulders lightly to steady him. He dropped his face heavily against the inside of her arm and nearly made her sway on her feet, the alcohol and exhaustion catching up to him fast.
"It's going to be alright," she said softly, rubbing his back soothingly. "You need to sleep. Try not to worry about anything else right now and just get some rest. You can barely stand up."
It was a struggle for her to remain composed, standing there and listening to him choking on tears and shivering in her arms.
It was all just so goddamned unfair.This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Not for him.
What he had just revealed to her had honestly scared the hell out of her, but that moment was not the time to explore it. He was far too upset and practically snoring against her.
She absently stroked the back of his neck, making him shiver involuntarily.
"You want the bed or the couch?"
He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like "couch" and managed to make it the few steps over across the room with her before collapsing messily onto it. He didn't even take off the hard slippers as he slumped sideways, halfway upright. It looked horribly uncomfortable but he seemed too close to oblivion to care.
Olivia sighed heavily and reached over his head to shut the light off.
"Liv."
His voice startled her into pausing. She looked back at him and saw him struggling to keep his eyes open.
"Leave the light on," he slurred tiredly. "Don't...like the dark."
She swallowed, looking at his swollen, red eyes, and took her hand away from the switch immediately. She moved over to curl up in the armchair. She could have gone to her room, but sensed he might fall asleep quicker knowing she was there.
She was right. His breathing evened out almost immediately, becoming heavy as he fell deep and hard thanks to the alcohol, and his face became slack in the soft glow of the lamp.
She sat in the silence and gazed at him for a few minutes, biting her lip.
Then she got up. She poked her head in to check on Noah before retrieving her laptop from her bedroom.
She sat back down in the chair, glanced at Elliot again to make sure he was still asleep, and then popped the flash drive into the side.
November 2011
Sergeant Declan Murphy had just walked back into the 48th precinct squad room after a 2-week vacation when a detective on his team came looking for him before he'd even gotten to his locker.
He had taken some much-needed time off after finally arresting the king pins of a drug cartel that he had been investigating undercover for the last four months. He had also gotten closer to having his head blown off during the bust than he'd ever had in his entire career and saved another officer from being shot to death.
Detective Malcolm Fitzgerald had also been part of the arrest and processing of the three people in charge of the drug cartel. He grinned and punched Declan on the shoulder.
"Welcome back, asshole," he said fondly, speaking as a friend of more than ten years. "How many 'vacation' days did you spend getting drunk and laid? Not as many as I did, I'll bet."
"You are so full of shit, Fitzie," Murpy replied. He gave the man an exaggerated once-over. "Your hand feel sore? It looks like it got a lot of action."
He saw their captain out of the corner of his eye step in the open doorway of his office.
"Need to see you, Murphy," Captain Carl Wilkenson called.
Murphy brushed past Fitzgerald and walked into the captain's office.
Right away, he noticed an unfamiliar man in an expensive-looking suit standing next to the desk.
"Have a seat, Sergeant," the captain said.
He sounded friendly. Too friendly.
"How was your time off?" he continued. "Restful?"
Declan was immediately suspicious. Captain Wilkenson was definitely not known for his caring nature.
"Restful enough, sir," he replied.
Captain Wilkenson nodded and then got right to the point.
"You're being promoted, Murphy," he said. "I recommended it to the chief two weeks ago and he agreed. You did a hell of a job with this last case and you deserve it."
Surprised, Declan nodded.
"Thank you, sir," he said.
The captain continued speaking.
"The promotion ceremony isn't until next month," he went on. "But I thought that, right now, you should have the opportunity to consider being part of another operation that will start soon after that. I think you would be a perfect fit."
He gestured to the well-dressed man.
"This is Deputy Director Steven Cox, from the U.S. Marshals," he introduced. "He's in charge."
Murphy's eyebrow shot up.
"Federal level," he noted. "Can't say I was expecting that."
Cox extended his hand and Murphy shook it warily.
"We've been made aware through exchanges with the FBI that there's a group of people that have been heavily involved in drug smuggling and human trafficking on both coasts," he said. "They seem to have drug runners here in New York that go across to California. There's also been talk that they pay people to solicit underage sexual activity. We've got an operation beginning under code name 'Operation Rubicon' to check it out. We're planning to get a special task force together to coordinate information between the agencies as we investigate."
"Wouldn't that be be a better outfit for Narcotics?" he asked. "Or Sex Crimes?"
The deputy director exchanged a look with the captain.
"We do hope to recruit members of those departments at some point," he said. "This assignment is of a different magnitude, though we are aiming for them to eventually overlap "
Murphy looked at him quizzically. Cox gestured and Captain Wilkenson handed a file over to the sergeant.
"The Department of Justice has received credible information from an anonymous whistle blower in the FBI," he said. "This source brought to their attention a number of corrupt activities taking place among agents employed by the FBI and the USMS during the last eighteen months during undercover operations, among them extortion, money laundering, and purchasing of illegal narcotics. In exchange, they keep those criminally involved tipped off to our investigations so they can elude capture."
Murphy opened the file and saw several photos of various men and women, along with pages of personal information.
"These are the agents that have been named so far," Cox said. "We believe there are more. We're getting a team together to investigate both agencies at the same time that they are investigating criminal enterprises around the country, including 'Operation Rubicon.'"
He looked at Murphy squarely.
"I didn't ask for you because you're Vice," he said. "It wouldn't have mattered what department you were in, frankly. I asked for you because you have a solid record, a fantastic closure rate, and experience with undercover ops. The only difference this time is that we're investigating bad agents."
Murphy looked at him nuetrally and didn't speak for a moment.
Then he nodded.
"Sure," he said. "Count me in."
Cox smiled.
"Fantastic," he said. "You won't regret it. I promise. "
He held out his hand again and Declan shook it once more. The deputy director smiled.
"Welcome to the team, Lieutenant Murphy," he went on. "I'm due to retire this month, so after I get you set up, I'm going to get you in touch with our next deputy director, since you will be working with him eventually. "
Murphy nodded again.
"His name is Brent Woodhouse," Cox added. "Real top-notch guy. You'll get along great."
February 2020
The flash drive had at least 50 files on it. She had no idea what to expect as she clicked the first one.
She began to read:
MEMORANDUM OF UNDERSTANDING
BETWEEN
THE UNITED STATES MARSHAL SERVICE
AND
THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION
AND
THE NEW YORK POLICE DEPARTMENT
From: Deputy Director Steven A. Cox, United States Marshal Service
To: Deputy Director Malcom L. Waterford, Federal Bureau of Investigation
Chief of Detectives Christopher H. Wright, New York Police Department
CC: Captain Donald F. Cragen, New York Police Department (SVU)
Detective Elliot M. Stabler, New York Police Department (SVU)
Date: 11/08/11
PURPOSE:
The United States Marshal Service (USMS) agrees to grant temporary jurisdictional privileges to the New York Police Department (NYPD) pursuant to operation CXM-122(Operation Rubicon),to commence 05/13/11.
All communications henceforth from NYPD to USMS regarding this operation will be sent to the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) as outlined in the Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) between USMS and FBI dated 11/18/11.
GOALS:
It is mutually agreed that a MOU should be established between USMS, FBI, and NYPD to ensure an effective federal response to sex trafficking and child abduction incidents in the states of CA, NV, and OR, and shall coordinate with similar FBI efforts in FL, TX, and LA.
IMPLEMENTATION:
USMS, FBI, and NYPD will develop and exchange pertinent operating procedures related to operation CXM- 122 (Operation Rubicon). It is mutually agreed that each participant will fully share information with respective agencies involved to assist each in fulfilling its' own mission.
Signed,
Deputy Director Steven A. Cox
Deputy Director Malcolm L. Waterford
Chief of Detectives Christopher H. Wright
Captain Donald F. Cragen
Detective Elliot M Stabler
She remembered what Kathy had said. Six months after retiring, the captain had approached Elliot about a job. It definitely seemed like he was indeed going undercover, possibly even at the federal level. SVU rarely got involved in such matters.
Yet Cragen had told her that same month that Elliot had put his papers in. Why? Why not just tell her he had gone undercover?
She opened another file.
It was a copy of a series of emails between the Chief of Detectives and someone else:
To: Christopher H. Wright
From: Brent A. Woodhouse
Date: 04/18/11
(No Subject)
Just got word Hernandez is heading to Oregon. Says there are too many risks here. He'll be flying out and meeting the others there next week.
Still have some product left about to be turned over into evidence. Let me know if you are interested.
-B.W.
To: Brent A. Woodhouse
From: Christopher H. Wright
Date: 04/20/11
RE: (No Subject)
Can you spare any of your guys for this?
Put product in your evidence locker. I'll get it before you sign off on it.
-C. Wright
To: Christopher H. Wright
From: Brent A. Woodhouse
Date: 04/21/11
RE: RE: (No Subject)
Can't use any of my people. The director is starting to take notice. FBI, too.
We need new people. Sending one from your level might help get the heat off of USMS and FBI for a bit
Have anyone in mind?
-B.W.
To: Brent A. Woodhouse
From: Christopher H. Wright
Date: 04/22/11
RE: RE: (No Subject)
I'll see what I can do. Will let you know.
-C. Wright
The next file was a single email, sent one month later:
To: Brent A. Woodhouse
From: Christopher H. Wright
Date: 05/26/11
RE: RE: (No Subject)
An incident happened at SVU last night that pretty much guarantees the end of a career for one of them. He might be a good fit for this. The possibility of a murder charge is a great motivator.
Hothead, history of anger issues, reprimands...most people think he's a pain in the ass.
I'll get back to you.
-C. Wright
To: Christopher H. Wright
From: Brent A. Woodhouse
Date: 05/26/11
RE: RE: (No Subject)
Sounds like he would be perfect for this. We're going to need someone who no one will miss.
-B. Woodhouse
A cold feeling washed over Olivia when she finished that one.
She still remembered the date of the shooting at the precinct ten years ago. May 25th, 2011, the day before the email. It had to be the "incident" at SVU that the chief was referencing.
Was Elliot the "one of them" being talked about in it?
Hothead, history of anger issues, reprimands...most people think he's a pain in the ass.
She winced. There was no denying that her partner had all three. And he definitely wasn't exactly everyone's favorite cop to work with.
Someone who no one will miss.
She glanced over at Elliot on the couch, feeling a stab in her heart.
She couldn't keep track of how many times she had been asked how she could stand working with Elliot Stabler for so long, even years after he had left. During random crime scenes, at "cop" bars, or even just passing in an elevator, she would get officers who would look at her and say, "You were Stabler's partner?"
Most times they would have that awed, sympathetic, "God-bless-your-soul" commiserating look as they said it, as if she were some kind of war hero just back from battle. Hell, they might as well have come right out and added "thank you for your sacrifice" while they were at it. It was more than implied how most of them felt personally about him.
It was hard not to snap at them. She hated that, after all they had been through together, Elliot had been relegated to just being the cop whom everyone had been glad to see gone. They thought she was a saint for "putting up" with him.
No one took the time to even see him. None of them even knew him, the man outside of the badge.
They had never been there to see him bring her coffee the mornings after she had refused to leave a case and then surreptitiously sweep the rest of her files into his own stack to take over so Cragen wouldn't notice.
They had never been privy to the shit-eating grins that wouldn't dare cross his face inside the office as he sat in the car with her during stakeouts and told her stories of things he had done as a young hell-raiser during his time in the service.
They had never seen the way he lit up around babies if they encountered a case involving them in some way and never hesitated to hold or soothe one if given the first opportunity.
They hadn't had to see the times when the stress of being constantly strong for everyone in his life sometimes manifested, giving him migraines so painful that she had to give him her sunglasses because he couldn't handle the light and random bouts of shaking so bad that he almost couldn't stand up. It had scared the hell out of her the first time she saw it and every time afterward.
God damn it. He had his flaws, but Elliot was a good man. Maybe the best she'd ever known. How dare anyone say that about him?
Tears pricked her eyes and she swallowed them back.
She had missed him. She had missed the hell out of him.
Looking at the files was turning into a bad idea. Olivia wasn't sure exactly what this all meant, but none of it sounded good. Until she got in touch with Lieutenant Murphy again, all she could really do was use her imagination and obviously that was only getting her upset. She should have just closed the laptop and gone to bed. It was late, anyway.
Instead, she clicked on another file.
And then immediately wished she hadn't.
She found herself looking at a screenshot of some text messages sent back and forth, from numbers she didn't recognize. If there had been any doubts about the subject of the previous ones, this file made it horrifyingly clear:
To: (786) 244-3832
From: (332) 857-7710
-Heads up. Jack Donaldson is actually an undercover cop. His name is Elliot Stabler and he's working with USMS.
-Fuck. Are you sure?
-Positive.
- Should I just kill him?
-You could. Or you could use him.
-What do you mean?
-He's not bad-looking and in good shape, too. I bet we could make a pretty penny if we advertise him with the kids. Or we could make him test the product before we sell to anyone. We'll know if it's laced with anything toxic one time at least. LOL.
-You're sick. But brilliant, haha. Sounds good to me.
She abruptly closed the laptop and had to breathe through her nose to calm down so she wouldn't wake anyone.
She was horrified, heartbroken...and furious.
Someone had set Elliot up to be used as a human guinea pig for drug dealing and sex trafficking. She couldn't read it any other way, not after seeing him in that terrible video. He had been raped on camera and probably drugged, too, because he had been discovered by whoever he had been working to infiltrate.
She wanted to puke just thinking about it.
Someone had been abusing her best friend in the worst way possible while she had been made to believe he had left the job and her without looking back.
She had a feeling that she wasn't going to be able to sleep after all.
She got up and went into her bedroom so that she wouldn't wake Elliot.
She had no idea what time it was wherever Murphy was. But she called anyway because she knew she couldn't wait.
Since his rescue, Elliot mainly saw three things in his dreams.
Sometimes it was the red-haired man. His memory gave him a clear tactile sensation of those meaty hands on his back, the hungry eyes looking him over slowly, and the hot breath panting into his ear that was enough to send him back into reality screaming.
Sometimes it was his daughters being executed one by one. In some of the dreams, one or all of them remained alive after being shot and he would see them morphed back into the little girls they had once been as they lay bleeding, crying out for him. Usually, he was the one actually crying as he slept.
Sometimes it was the dark trunk of Raul Hernandez' car, the thick blackness suffocating him until he couldn't breathe. He couldn't explain why, but that one was the one that scared him the most.
It was this third dream that woke Elliot then and made him feel for the briefest of moments like he was actually going to die. Perhaps because the alcohol and severe tiredness had dragged him further down than normal, the torturous dream went on much longer than it ever had before. He was jolted into awareness yelling soundlessly and feeling like his tongue had fallen back into his throat.
He immediately realized he had been dreaming when he saw the lamp shining above him, but still couldn't move for several agonizing seconds because of how badly he was trembling. He felt like his head was full of sand and was suddenly so thirsty that he could barely swallow.
Elliot sat up stiffly and looked around the empty living room. The events of the previous night were still hazy and all he really remembered at that particular moment was that he had stumbled into the apartment drunk at some point.
He got to his feet and walked quietly into the kitchen. It was early, the sun barely peeking up. Still, he was surprised to see the time. He had gotten nearly six hours of sleep. Even interrupted by nightmares, he could still feel the difference it had made.
His thirst was raging, an after-effect of the dream, and it felt like he couldn't get to the cabinet fast enough. He took a glass, filled it to the brim with water from the sink tap, and gulped it down. He refilled it immediately without pause and downed even more as if was dying in the desert.
It took four refills before he felt normal again. He swallowed, placed the glass quietly in the sink, and then stood where he was, not really sure what to do with himself. Trying to go back to sleep on the couch was definitely not going to happen.
After thinking a minute, he walked over and slipped on the coat that Fin had lent to him. He carefully opened the door leading to the small outside balcony as quietly as he could and stepped out.
The freezing air blew up in his face right away. He shivered, but didn't go back in. He walked over to the railing and leaned down against it.
He stood there for several minutes, staring down at the city street below.
Even before dawn, there was plenty of activity. Cars made their way down the street with headlights shining. Shop owners were unlocking their businesses and preparing for the day. Police sirens rang faintly through the air from somewhere uptown.
Elliot sagged against the metal railing.
The physical craving for drugs may have finally waned, but dear God did he ever want that sensation of euphoria back that they gave him. If he was completely honest, if he'd happened to have anything worth trading with him the night before, he probably would have given in and gotten them.
He buried his face in his hands, wishing he could just turn it all completely off inside his brain forever.
"Hi, Olivia."
He would have known it was her even if he didn't recognize the number. He was expecting it.
"I take it you got the flash drive?" Murphy said before she even spoke.
Olivia didn't bother with pleasantries.
"What the hell is all this?" she asked quietly, pacing the floor of her bedroom. The door was closed but she still didn't want to risk waking anyone.
Murphy was sitting in a taxi on his way to the airport.
"I'm on my way to catch a flight back to the city," he told her. "Once I get in, I'll explain everything. Can I meet you at your apartment?"
She was mystified
"Sure," she said.
"It would help if your friend was there as well," he said. "I'm going to need to know details of what happened." He paused delicately. "Do you think you can get him to do that?"
Her heart sank.
"I don't want to," she replied honestly. "But I can try."
"I'll call you," he said. "But I'll warn you...it's going to be difficult to move forward with our case if he isn't open to talking."
She bit her lip.
"We do have another victim," she told him. "A little girl. We've been trying to get her story. It's going slowly, but I think we might be getting closer."
"That will definitely help," Murphy said immediately. "The more victims we can find, the better the chances will be that we can get an arrest." She heard noise in the background. "I'm at the airport now. I'll call you when I land."
She hung up, feeling a pit in her stomach as she thought about telling Elliot. He had been a wreck the night before just at the mere mention of talking about what had happened to him. She wasn't sure this was going to be a good idea.
She was surprised to discover that the apartment smelled like coffee when she opened the door, like it always did in the morning because the coffee maker was set to brew at 5 am. It hadn't been broken after all.
She saw movement out of the corner of her eye as she went to the kitchen. It was Elliot, standing outside against the railing of the balcony. She wondered how long he had been out there.
At least he had a coat on this time.
"Hey."
Olivia's voice came behind him, sounding slightly concerned. He turned and saw her standing outside the door with a mug in her hand.
She held it out to him with an indulgent smile.
"It still works," she said.
A lump swelled in his throat so fast that he almost choked when she saw that she had made him a cup of coffee.
He tasted it eagerly as she turned back to get her own mug and savored it in his mouth. It tasted like it had-
Tears suddenly welled in his eyes.
Milk. No sugar.
She still remembered how he liked his coffee after almost ten years apart when he himself had forgotten until that first sip.
She came back out and saw him appear to be struggling to stay composed. She looked at him in surprise and he shook his head, trying to give words to the intense emotions he was suddenly feeling.
"Thank you," was all he could say.
She gave him a small smile and just nodded. She stepped up beside him and for a few minutes they stood together in companionable silence, gazing out at the barely-awake city beneath them.
"Liv?"
He spoke quietly. She looked over at him and he glanced at her for a moment before lowering his gaze.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry for what I said about Noah last night." He swallowed and met her eyes again. The sorrow in them was painful to see. "I know I'll eventually love him just...because he's yours."
She had to blink back tears.
"Elliot," she said tenderly.
She placed her hand over his on top of the railing. She tried to think of the right words.
"I know," she finally said simply. "It's ok. I want you to love him."
He blew out a breath, looking troubled.
"I miss my kids," he said painfully.
"Do you want to go see them?" she asked. He immediately looked panicked and she hurried on. "We can have Kathy meet us somewhere. You could see Eli and probably Dick, too."
He looked so hopeful that it made her want to cry. But then he shook his head.
"She won't do it," he said tearfully. "She hates me. She said she never wanted to see me again."
"No," she said forcefully. "No, she doesn't, Elliot. She loves you. I know she does."
He looked away.
"I wouldn't know what to say to them," he mumbled. "I don't want them to see me...like this."
She saw tears glitter in his eyes.
"I don't want you to see me like this," he added in a choked whisper.
"Why not, Elliot?" she asked softly. "Do you think it changes how I feel about you?" She sounded incredulous. "I care about you. I always have."
His face suddenly twisted
"Then why didn't you ever look for me?" he whispered.
Olivia suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe.
He felt wetness on his cheeks as he kept on in a rush.
"The FBI was looking through missing persons reports after we were taken to the hospital," he said. "They identified some of the kids, but there was nothing there for me at all. They said it looked like no one had ever reported me as missing."
He looked like he couldn't bear to even think about what he was saying.
"They forced me to call Kathy while I was gone and lie that I was still working," he went on tearfully. "Cragen, too. I tried to let him know I needed help but they caught on and then I never got to talk to anyone again. I kept hoping...that you would somehow figure out something was wrong and...come get me out."
The sentence ended in a sudden sob. Olivia came closer and wrapped her hand around his neck, squeezing gently.
"I would have," she whispered, pressing her face against the side of his neck. "Jesus, Elliot, if I'd had any idea-" She huffed out an agonized breath. "I would have killed someone if I'd had to. I would have done anything to get to you."
He turned and embraced her, holding on like he was afraid she might disappear.
"I don't want to live like this, Olivia," he said in anguish. "I don't even exist anymore. They took every part of me."
"No, they didn't," she said fiercely. "You're still here, Elliot." She pulled back and wiped his tears with her hand, cupping his chin. "Do you understand me? You are still here. And you deserve to live."
He wouldn't let himself look at her.
"My daughters deserve to live," he whispered in agony. He squeezed his eyes closed. "I want them to live!"
She hugged him to her and wished more than anything that she could take it all from him.
"Listen to me," she murmured, rubbing his back. "I know it hurts. I know you miss them. They deserve justice. And so do you."
She took a deep breath and then took the plunge.
"I have a friend," she went on carefully. "His name is Declan Murphy. He's a lieutenant with Manhattan Vice. He knows about the undercover job, Elliot. He can help find the ones responsible for this and get them arrested."
Elliot's face went white.
"How?" he whispered. "How could he know that?"
"I don't know," she said honestly. "He wants to meet here and talk to us today. Are you ok with that?"
He looked hesitant.
"You don't have to tell him anything," she promised. "But he could have some information that could help us."
"What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously. "Help with what, Olivia?"
She inhaled quickly.
"With the case being investigated by our squad, " she replied. "We have another victim who went through what you did, Elliot. A girl named Melissa Miller."
Olivia watched his expression as she spoke. He looked nauseous and frightened.
"She's how I found out that you were there," she added quietly. "We saw you in a picture next to her."
His phone rang just as he was about to walk out of his apartment to head for work. He saw Rollins name on the screen as he answered.
"Hello?" Fin said.
He knew right away something had happened by the tone of her voice.
"Fin," she said. "I just got a call from DCFS."
She exhaled dreadfully and went on,
"Melissa Miller committed suicide last night."