"Law and Order: SVU" belongs to Dick Wolf and Universal Television. No profit is being made from this story.

A/N: One chapter left. Thanks for reading!

He was quiet as they drove and she didn't try to make conversation. Her adrenaline was surging and she had to keep reminding herself to keep her cool. There was still the possibility that this would end up being a false alarm, as unlikely as that seemed.

Olivia hoped fervently, for his sake, that it wouldn't be.

It took less than half an hour to arrive and she saw Murphy in the parking lot as soon as she pulled in, standing with several FBI agents around four dark SUVs. She parked beside the furthest one and shut off the ignition.

She turned to face him.

"Ready?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head and opened his door.

"Let's just get this over with," he muttered.

Murphy said something to the agents as they approached and they turned away, walking toward the airport. Elliot looked at them uneasily as Murphy noticed the two of them and motioned toward the vehicle he stood beside. He wore a black jacket emblazoned with VICE across the breast and a black NYPD baseball cap.

"A team is going inside," he said straight away. He reached inside the back passenger door of the SUV as he spoke. "I've also got people at both entrances to the parking garage and at the exit of this lot, in case he runs."

He came out holding several things in his hand and then paused, seeing the look of dread on Elliot's face at his words.

"Hey, don't sweat it," he said to Elliot lightly. "It's just a precaution. I don't plan on that happening. This should be quick and easy, you'll see."

He brought an item out toward Elliot. It was a Kevlar vest.

"Also a precaution," he said. Elliot looked at him unhappily and he just quirked an eyebrow. "No arguments. My boss' orders and you don't get a choice. Put it on, Stabler."

Elliot shed his coat and pulled on the bulletproof vest. His heart began racing immediately when the heaviness of the vest settled snugly against his chest. Murphy was still speaking, but his voice was suddenly like a far-off echo.

For a few stomach-churning moments Elliot was once again trapped, pinned tightly inside of a tarp and gasping in suffocating terror as someone manhandled him from outside.

"-Lenses are transitional, so they will be dark even inside. "

He snapped back into focus when Murphy's voice came back in a sudden loud rush. He seemed to almost jump when Murphy put a pair of eyeglasses into his hand.

Olivia looked at him worriedly, recognizing that same distracted look on Elliot's face that she had seen before calling Cragen earlier. Murphy didn't seem to notice, as he had turned to the backseat once more and took out a dark brown hunting jacket and cap.

"Switch this with yours," he went on gesturing toward Elliot's coat. "And put this on, too."

Elliot donned everything and then stood uncomfortably as Murphy scrutinized him. The lieutenant nodded, deeming the disguise officiant.

"We've got about twenty minutes before the plane lands," he said, looking between them.

He looked at Elliot like he was expecting him to nod or acknowledge him but Elliot didn't, turning away from him instead.

Murphy glanced at Olivia and she just shook her head helplessly.

Murphy indicated a small table along the back wall before heading over to speak with the TSA agent behind the desk nearby. Olivia led the way to it, weaving around people sitting at the others. Elliot followed, his gaze darting around anxiously.

The full reality of what was about to take place seemed to hit him abruptly when he began to sit in the chair closest to the wall. He looked around the crowded terminal, seeing the agents that had been with Murphy positioned throughout.

Olivia had positioned herself next to the table, head down, pretending to be texting and covertly scanning the room. She noticed him gripping the edge of the table and then saw his face start to become panicked as he looked around.

She quickly moved a few steps closer and turned slightly to look at him. He looked at her like she had startled him, swallowing frantically.

"I'm going to puke," he gasped, shaking his head. He looked at her desperately. "I can't do this, Liv. I don't think I can do this."

She reached over and gripped his hand, prying it gently away from the white-knuckled grip he had on the edge.

"Hang in there," she murmured quietly, glancing around to make sure they weren't drawing much attention. "It's almost over."

She could sense her words weren't helping and wished there was more she could do other than rub soothing circles across the back of his palm. He wasn't pulling away, at any rate, so at least he was accepting the meager comfort the moment allowed.

Murphy had placed a newspaper on the table for him to use as a prop while they waited but he hadn't moved to touch it. He was so anxious that Olivia thought he might levitate right out of the chair and if she didn't do something fast, she knew the plan would evaporate into thin air. She pushed the paper toward him.

"Pick it up, Elliot," she continued. "Just stay hidden and try to relax. I'm keeping an eye out."

He looked at her with an expression of hysterical incredulity. But he nonetheless lifted the paper and then disappeared behind it.

She turned casually back around and resumed watching the room, looking at her phone ever so often to keep up the appearance of being occupied.

After a few minutes, Murphy casually walked over and took up space near them .

"Get ready," he murmured. "Passengers are coming in from the plane now."

Elliot's mouth went bone-dry.

Olivia immediately stepped in front of the table and blocked him from view as much as possible, turning to face him.

"No," she said quickly, seeing him moving to lower the paper. "Keep the paper up and cover your face. Look at them behind me as they pass."

She met his fearful eyes as he moved to conceal himself again and nodded as calmly as she could. "You can do this, Elliot."

He felt like he had a lump in his throat and it was hard to breathe around it. He peered around the paper and watched from behind Olivia as people began emerging inside from the runway.

Murphy stood on alert. Olivia kept her gaze on Elliot and waited with her heart racing.

Two women walked past. A Black man. A family with a man, woman, and small child in a stroller. Another woman.

He inhaled helplessly, not seeing anyone who looked remotely familiar as more people went by.

Then the family that Elliot had seen stopped next to the baggage claim and he noticed the man continued walking, as if not actually with them. When the woman bent to grab a bag, the man turned slightly and was directly in his line of sight.

Elliot felt his stomach lurch. Flashes of memory suddenly made him dizzy as he stared.

Blonde hair, swept slightly to the side.

"Elliot, this is Deputy U.S. Marshal Brent Woodhouse."

"Pleasure to meet you, Detective Stabler."

Hard brown eyes, set slightly too far apart.

He sat listlessly, staring at the bodies of his daughters. He had screamed initially. He had sobbed. At that point, after days of looking at them, he had detached.

When Woodhouse came down the stairs and approached him, Elliot didn't even blink. The marshal kicked him and he still didn't move.

"You see what happens when you don't do what you're told?" he said disapprovingly. "It's a shame, really."

He plucked the photos he had taken from Elliot from his back pocket. Then he got up into Elliot's face, his eyes hardening.

"Look at those beautiful girls," he said, holding the photos in front of Elliot. "Look at what you did to them. All because you didn't do as you were told. Was it was worth it?"

Tears flowed down Elliot's face but he didn't even feel them. He just blinked heavily, staring at the photographs of his daughters.

"Who should bring next? Your wife?" he demanded coldly. "Or maybe Detective Benson, see how she likes it here?"

Tears and snot exploded out as the words registered, panic snapping Elliot out of his grieving fog. He shook his head frantically.

Olivia saw Elliot's face suddenly go pale. His hands had clenched the paper tightly, wrinkling it. He was staring in horror behind her.

"You see him?" she asked quickly.

Murphy moved to attention, ready for the indication. She glanced at him quickly and then back to Elliot.

The man began walking away. Elliot met her eyes, seeming frozen, and the look on his face said everything.

"Tell us where," she said quickly. She wasn't trying to be harsh, but she didn't want to risk losing their advantage. "Tell us!"

Her insistence seemed to penetrate through his horror.

"Walking away from the baggage claim," he managed to say. "Black leather jacket. "

Murphy began making his way over instantly. Olivia nodded and reached for her gun.

"We've got this," she said calmly. "Just keep your head down."

Then she turned around, striding purposefully after Murphy.

The lieutenant nodded at the agents near the front exit as they got closer to be ready, keeping the leather jacket in his sights. He glanced down at the name and photo he held that he had gotten from the U.S. Marshals Agency database.

"Woodhouse," he called out walking faster. "Brent Woodhouse."

Several people turned to look when his voice boomed through the air.

"Brent Woodhouse," he said louder. "Stop where you are. NYPD."

The man in the leather walked faster. Two agents blocked the exit door as Woodhouse approached and he stopped short.

"Turn around, now," Murphy said. "Hands where I can see them."

He didn't move. Murphy unsnapped the safety on his gun as Olivia came up next to him.

"Show me your hands and turn around, " he repeated edgily.

Olivia's gun went up in a flash as soon as she saw the man starting to turn around, seeing a sidearm at his waist when his jacket flapped.

"Gun," she warned immediately.

"Hands up," Murphy ordered. "Now. Don't move."

The man stood still, narrowing his eyes. He slowly extended his arms, the bag on his shoulder sliding. Murpy approached him warily.

Brent Woodhouse smiled as the lieutenant quickly took the gun off of him and then the bag.

Olivia glared at him hatefully and kept her gun trained on his chest as Murphy took out his handcuffs.

"Brent Woodhouse," he said. "You're under arrest for conspiracy to commit kidnapping, assaulting a police officer, and as an accessory to human trafficking and murder. You have the right to remain silent."

Woodhouse offered no resistance and didn't say a word as Murphy read him his rights and handcuffed him. He just smiled.

Onlookers had formed a crowd, watching the exchange. Murphy nodded at his agents and one of them took Woodhouse by the arm to lead him through the airport.

Olivia stepped over in front of the table where Elliot was and kept him from view as they walked by, her jaw clenched.

Murphy watched them leave the building and turned around toward her. She started to give him a relieved nod until she saw him looking behind her in alarm.

She turned toward Elliot and realized he was out of the chair and hurrying toward the exit on the other side.

Elliot burst out into the open air and began dragging in painful breaths that burned his chest. Olivia came outside in time to see him yanking on the bulletproof vest in a frenzy, like he wanted to rip it apart. He threw it away from him like it was on fire.

Murphy caught the door and stepped out right before Elliot hit his knees, shivering like his system had gone haywire. He puked onto the pavement for almost three whole minutes, gasping in tearful breaths.

Olivia came over quietly and stood without speaking, swallowing hard. Eventually, he began rising shakily back up to his feet. She gripped his shoulder and extended her other hand, helping him up without asking.

Instead of pulling away once he got his bearings, Elliot surprised her when he wrapped himself around her like he was desperate for something to ground him. He almost knocked her down with the force with which he gripped her. Olivia returned the embrace without hesitation, helping to hold him up and giving him the outlet he needed until he was strong enough to move away.

Murphy looked away out of respect until the private moment was over. He watched Elliot's body language morph immediately when he approached, letting go of her fast as if not wanting to appear weak.

He gripped Elliot's shoulder solidly and nodded companionably, keeping space between them.

"Good work, Marine," he said quietly.

Elliot swallowed. His expression remained stoic as he nodded in

Murphy asked Olivia to wait as he debriefed with the agents in the parking lot. She stood outside the car and called Kathy to check on Noah. Elliot sank into the passenger seat immediately once he got in the car and leaned his head back, suddenly overwhelmingly exhausted. She didn't blame him a bit.

The lieutenant came over about twenty minutes later and stood by the passenger side. Elliot rolled down the window reluctantly. Olivia stayed where she was and looked over the roof of the SUV as Murphy spoke to both of them.

"You good to come to my office?" he asked. "My boss is expecting us."

She looked at Elliot. He nodded tiredly without speaking.

"I was going to grab a bite to eat on the way," Murphy went on. "You guys interested?"

She had only managed go grab a few bites of Chinese food back at Elliot and Kathy's house earlier. She nodded, already feeling her stomach agreeing. But Elliot just shook his head.

"You really should get something in your stomach, Elliot," she urged gently. "'You'd probably feel better."

"I'm fine," he said flatly, closing his eyes.

She looked at Murphy, seeming defeated, and began reaching for her wallet. Murphy waved her off.

"It's on me," he said quietly. "Meet you at the precinct."

Murphy pulled in behind them in the parking lot 48th Precinct and came over holding fast food bags as they stepped out of Olivia's car.

"Thank you," she said, taking the one he handed her.

Murphy had a bottle of Gatorade tucked in the same arm as the bags. He looked at Elliot and tossed it at him without preamble. Elliot caught it reflexively, looking surprised.

"Hydrate," Murpy ordered. His voice wasn't making it sound like a suggestion. "You look like absolute shit."

Elliot stared at him rebelliously and Murphy just gave him a hard look back. It became obvious that the lieutenant wouldn't back down and Elliot glared at him even as he twisted off the cap.

He finished the bottle in a few gulps, thirstier than he wanted to admit either of them, but still looked defiantly at the other man when he finished.

Olivia bit back a grin.

He still didn't eat, but Elliot looked much less shaky once the sugar hit his system. He ducked into the bathroom beside the office once they had walked inside.

"Olivia."

Murphy had lowered his voice slightly, gesturing into the bullpen. It was practically deserted, the officers not out on patrol being off for the Sunday. He went to his desk and held the file out to her, his eyes fixed on hers seriously.

She wasn't sure what it was, the writing upside down, and she turned it upright to read the words.

OPERATION RUBICON.

Her eyes widened slightly and she jerked her eyes toward him.

"It's everything," he said quietly. "From start to finish. Every victim is in there as well as every player we've been able to identify. You'll need it if your squad is going to move ahead with any charges after we're done with this."

She nodded, tucking it into her side so Elliot wouldn't see it when he returned.

Murphy nodded toward the small office in the corner.

"We'll be in there," he told her.

Her phone vibrated and she glanced at it, seeing the name of one of the sergeants in her department on the screen.

"Be right there," she said, nodding in his direction. She stepped away to answer it. "Captain Benson."

Elliot stood in front of the sink, head lowered, and tried to breathe through the terror making him shake.

The panic attacks were brutal. They made him feel like he was dying. He always tried to fend them off whenever he felt one may be coming, but it was becoming increasingly harder.

At the inpatient program, he had reluctantly admitted to his doctor his struggle with them. The doctor had suggested a prescription medication to help, but he had adamantly refused after the man told him how they would work.

He would not allow anything to go into his system that would dull or potentially incapacitate his reflexes. Never again. The only reason he was taking the Wellbutrin was because it was supposed to curb his addiction and he intended to only take them when absolutely necessary. He told the doctor this vehemently.

So the doctor had instead suggested working on identifying his "triggers" and working through them as they talked about all that had happened to him. He had suggested weekly sessions once he was out of treatment. Elliot had barely managed not to scoff right in the guy's face. Just thinking back on it made him angry.

My "triggers?" he thought wildly, gripping the sink. Talking about what happened is my trigger, you moron.

And it's not a " trigger"...it's more like a giant fucking kill switch that's about to blow me up.

He exhaled shakily.

Why can't they see that? Why can't anyone see that?

The thought made the panic come on all over again and he almost lost his grip on the sink.

He knew Olivia and Murphy were just trying to help.

But they were pushing him further towards the edge without realizing it and he was desperately trying to claw for a grip so he didn't go over.