Lyrics from "Threat" by Jay-Z

Put that knife in ya, take a little bit of life from ya
Am I frightenin ya? Shall I continue?
I put the gun to ya, I let it sing you a song
I let it hum to ya, the other one sing along
Now it's a duet, and you wet, when you check out
the technique from the 2 tecs and I don't need two lips
To blow this like a trumpet you dumb shit
This is a un-usual musical I conductin
You lookin at the black Warren Buffett so all critics can duck sic
I don't care if you C. Delores Tuck-it
Or you Bill O'Reilly, you only rylin me up
For three years, they had me peein out of a cup
Now they bout to free me up, whatchu think I'm gon' be, what?
Rehabilitated, man I still feel hatred
I'm young black and rich so they wanna strip me naked, but
You never had me like Christina Aguiler-y
But catch me down the Westside, drivin like Halle Berry
Or the FDR, in the seat of my car
Screamin out the sunroof death to y'all
You can't kill me, I live forever through these bars
I put the wolves on ya, I put a price on your head
The whole hood'll want ya, you startin to look like bread
I send them boys at ya, I ain't talkin bout Feds
Nigga them body-snatchers, nigga you heard what I said

Grown man I put hands on you
I dig a hole in the desert, they build The Sands on you
Lay out blueprint plans on you
We Rat Pack niggaz, let Sam tap dance on you
Then, I Sinatra shot ya God damn you
... I put the boy in the box like David Blaine
Let the audience watch, it ain't a thang
Y'all wish I was frontin, I George Bush the button
Front of all you in your car lift up your hood nigga run it
Then lift up your whole hood like you got oil under it
Your boy got the goods y'all don't want nuttin of it
Like, castor oil, I Castor Troy you
Change your face or the bullets change all that for you
... y'all niggaz is targets
Y'all garages for bullets, please don't make me park it
in your upper level, valet a couple strays
from the 38 special, nigga, God bless you

When the gun is tucked, untucked, nigga you dies
like numchuks held by the Jet L-I
I'm the one, thus meanin no one must try
No two, no three, no four, know why?
Because one's four-five might blow yo' high
You ain't gotta go to church to get to know yo' God
It's a match made in heaven when I 'splay the 7
Put you on the nigga news, UPN at 11
Where you been, you ain't heard, got the word that I'm
that I'm so sin-surr?
I'm especially Joe Pesci with a grin
I will kill you, commit suicide, and kill you again

"Lewiston Police Department."

"Hello…Larry?"

"Yes?"

"This is Dora Stabler. How are you?"

"Dora! Long time no hear. What can I do for you?"

"I am so sorry to bother you, but is my husband at the station? I need to speak with him, it is somewhat of an emergency…"

"Absolutely. Hold while I connect to him."

Olivia threw Elliot a quick look of confirmation while she waited for Byron to pick up the line. Elliot answered with his own nod and turned back towards the street, resuming his lookout duties. They were standing outside a pay phone near the library. It closed early that day, so they knew little or no traffic would be around in case they were spotted.

"Stabler."

"Byron, it's me. I told the front desk I was your wife."

Silence. "Is everything alright Dora?" he asked after a brief hesitation.

Olivia was relieved he had kept up the act. She couldn't risk anyone overhearing the conversation. "Can you leave the station for a little bit? I need to talk to you…it's important."

"I'm really busy…can it wait?"

"No…it's about Mom…I think I hurt her….she said she was going to tell on you…"

Elliot was amazed at how believable Olivia sounded. She had managed to imitate his mother's voice in a near perfect pitch and now she truly sounded desperate for his dad to come help her. After a few more words she hung up.

"He's coming."

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Byron Stabler pulled his RMP into the abandoned lot and parked behind his Chevy truck. It was near dark except for the faint glow of a dim street bulb. No one ventured over to this part of town except teenagers looking for a place to screw or hoodlums that were up to no good. He had no idea why Olivia wanted him to meet her here of all places. Despite himself, he was worried about what kind of trouble she had gotten herself into and pleased that she would go as far as to hurt Serena for threatening to turn him in. And for that he would help get her out of whatever mess she was in. He watched as she got out of the cab of the truck and walked back over to his car. She was dressed in head to toe black and matching gloves which he thought was odd, but quickly forgot as her tear stained face came into view.

"Byron," she whispered, when he rolled down the window. "I'm so glad you came. You have to help me."

"What the hell happened? And why are you in my truck?"

"I think she's dead…I didn't mean to hit her that hard…"

Oh, shit, he thought. "Where is she? Is she at the house?"

"N..no, she's in the cab of the truck…she's bleeding and she won't wake up…"

Byron looked towards the truck. "Damn it Olivia," he snapped, climbing out of his vehicle. "Why did you put her in my fucking truck? Is there blood everywhere? Did you at least put something down so she wouldn't bleed over the seats…"

He was still complaining when he wrenched open the door. There cab was empty. He furrowed his brow in confusion. He started to turn around to confront Olivia when he felt a sharp pain to the back of his head. He stumbled against the open door and slid to the ground. His body half twisted, he looked up and saw Olivia and his oldest son standing above him before the darkness took over.

XXXXXXX

Byron felt a jarring shock to his body and wrenched his eyes open. His vision was fuzzy and his body felt like it was on fire.

"About time you woke up you mother fucker."

Olivia was standing in front of him, his police issue baton in her hand. The look on her face was one of unadulterated hate, so twisted he almost didn't recognize her. He struggled to get up but found that he was tied to a straight-backed chair with ropes that were cutting into his skin.

"Where…where's Elliot?" he croaked.

He was answered with a blow to the back of his head that almost knocked him unconscious for the second time. Elliot came into his view and stood by Olivia, his face almost identical hers. For the first time in a long time he felt an unnerving sensation.

Fear.

"Are you scared Dad?" Elliot whispered.

"Wait…wait…you don't want to do this…are you two fucking crazy?"

"Tell me that you're scared," he insisted. "I want to hear you tell me that."

Byron was overcome with anger. "No," he growled. "I'm not scared. Because when I get out of this chair I'm going to snap both your necks."

Olivia answered his threat with a swift chop of the baton to his knees. Byron howled in pain as Olivia delivered another blow.

"How long did you think you could go around terrorizing us Byron? Everything you did to me, my mother, did you really think I was going to just stand around and wait until you killed us?"

Olivia picked her foot and pushed it into Byron's groin. Forcefully, she pushed against him, twisting and grinding as he struggled in pain. "Never again will use this as a weapon to hurt me," she said near hysterical, before lifting her foot up.

"Your mother is an ugly, good for nothing drunk Olivia," he said when he finally caught his breath. "You defend her? She never did a damn thing for you and she never will. No one gives a damn about you or your mother. You're both stupid, ugly sluts. Did you tell Elliot how you seduced me? How you wanted me to do it to you? Did you tell him that? Without me you're as good as dead. At least I cared about you."

Elliot punched him hard in the stomach. "Don't…don't you talk about her that way."

He turned to Elliot, heaving. He wanted to throw up. "And you," he hissed. "Everything I did for our family…all I did was work while your mother sat around and had fucking brats…I didn't want any of you, nothing but fucking trouble and mouths to feed. I would have left a long time ago…but I loved you. I would die for my family. And you would piss it away for some bitch."

Elliot and Olivia just stared at him and his contradicting statements. Then in eerie silence peppered by only Byron's screams and grunts, they hit him, kicked him, scratched and clawed at him. Eventually he passed out from the excruciating pain. The two patiently waited until he regained consciousness, neither of them speaking, each lost in their own painful memories and thoughts of the evil man that sat broken before them

"What…now?" he whispered, blood gushing out of his mouth. Olivia picked the knife off the table and straddled him. In two quick jabs she stuck the knife in his stomach, blood splashing the front of her dark clothes. Byron's eyes widened in shock and pain. He tried to speak but nothing but a gurgled sound came out.

"Move Olivia."

She looked back at Elliot. He was holding the gun. "No," she said shaking her head. A bullet is too good for him…let him bleed to death."

Elliot looked at his father, his eyes still wide open, staring at him. Even as the blood seeped out of him, he still held a look of defiance.

"No, he's suffered enough. He knows his fate." Elliot bent down and looked deep into his father's eyes. "Remember who did this to you," he whispered.

He abruptly straightened up and shot him point blank in the forehead.

XXXXXXX

If there ever were an out-of-body experience, this would be it, Olivia thought.

Elliot and Olivia heaved Byron's body out of the chair and carried his lifeless corpse to the pickup truck. After shoving him unceremoniously into the back, they hopped into the cab and drove an hour out of town into the middle of a deserted field, the nearest abandoned farmhouse about six miles away. They pulled Byron's body out, walked a couple of feet, and dropped him into the field.

Olivia noticed that the grass was pretty high and if you stood at a certain angle you couldn't see his body. She glanced at Elliot who was staring at his hands, a look of disbelief and wonder on his face. He probably looked just the way she felt. She started to tremble with the weight of it all. She should have never have gotten him involved.

"You have to go now," she whispered harshly, her voice betraying her fear. She pushed him roughly, as if her might was enough to propel him away from the field, away from the horrible act. Elliot stumbled, his right foot catching on a dead shrub.

"What are you going to do? You can't just stay here," he snapped back in his own whisper.

She hesitated, looking at the ground, at the prone figure who stared sightlessly back up at her. She shuddered visibly, wrapping her arms around her body tightly, trying desperately to find warmth that would never come. "I…feel like someone should call the police…I should call 911."

Elliot stared at her unbelieving. "Olivia, have you lost your mind? We have to stick to the plan!"

She was white as a sheet. She looked up at the sky. No chance of her getting to heaven. Ever. "Maybe if I say that…I was taking a walk through the field…and I found him…"

Elliot shook his head hard. "No," he said firmly. "We leave. Now."

Olivia nodded her head, her thoughts clearing. She noticed the blood on Elliot, on his hands, face, clothes…Jerkily she looked down at her own body. Blood was everywhere.

"Oh my God…Oh my…" she cried.

Elliot grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. Startled, she fell silent.

"Listen to me," Elliot demanded, his voice again a whisper. "We'll go to jail…they'll kill us, give us the death penalty...our lives will be ruined…we're only seventeen."

Olivia stared into his eyes. "Why Elliot?" she asked.

"Because I had to," he answered simply.

He turned and left, she following close behind. They hopped back into the cab of the truck and drove off, leaving Byron's battered and bruised body behind. They drove an additional long hour from the drop off point to a secluded area they had scouted out beforehand. The ride was dead silent as each was lost in their own thoughts.

Pulling deep into the woods, they reached a clearing where they had left Olivia's car. Earlier that day, Elliot had followed Olivia in his car and picked her up after she had dropped off hers. They picked this spot not only because of the seclusion, but the fact that there was a small creek that ran through it. Each had the presence of mind to know they would need somewhere to clean up.

Stripping naked, the duo washed the blood off their bodies the best they could, then changed into clothing they had stashed in Olivia's car. Taking the bloody clothes and gloves, Elliot threw them into the truck before setting it afire. Meanwhile, Olivia threw the gun and knife down the deep hole they had dug earlier and set about burying them.

Finished, they watched the flames of the truck. The last symbol of Byron Stabler.

"It's over," she whispered, mostly to herself. "It's finally over."

"We have to get out of here before the fire department comes," Elliot said.

"He'll never be able to hurt me again," Olivia said dully, making no move from her spot. "He's gone now." Elliot turned to her and grabbed her arm. Startled, she looked at him.

"What?" she said, terrified. "What's wrong?"

"Listen…it's over and done, we can't turn back now," he said intensely. "We need to start getting our heads into survival mode. They will find his body. They will find the remains of the truck. We need to remember our stories. Now it's all about not getting caught."

Olivia nodded jerkily. "Yes…yes…it's all about not getting caught. We can't get caught."

Elliot nodded along with her, satisfied that she was back on planet Earth. "Good, let's get out the hell out of here."

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