CHAPTER TITLE: "Eye of the Beast (Hours of Truth)"
PAIRINGS: None specified
SEASON:
Late Season Four. Alex Cabot is still around and the Stabler
marriage is still, well, stable-ish.
RATING:
M
WARNINGS: Lots of language, violence. Big frakkin
angst fest.
SUMMARY: See parent chapter (Zero Hour)
DISCLAIMERS: See Chapter 1
AUTHOR'S NOTES: ((blushes at the compliments in reviews)) I'm so not deserving of what some of you have said. Thank you SO much! You're keeping this thing alive!
Hour 12 in this jumps so often between autopsy suite and precinct, I didn't separate it. Hope all you Merkuns had a fantabulous Thanksgiving!
"Eye of the Beast (Hour of Truth)"
Hour
10 cont.
(8:15
am)
Tuesday
Jan 21st
Precinct
"Everything okay, detective?"
Elliot came back into the squad room looking pale but under control again. Certainly his eyes were a little less glassy. Cragen assumed that the tension had just built up too high and, like him, if Elliot hadn't eaten since this started, it was starting to affect him physically as well.
If the captain had known that that was only a fraction of the problem, he might have questioned his detective's composure a little more seriously.
"Fine," Elliot said with a wan smile. He tried to diffuse the concerned glances. "Where'd Alex get that coffee anyway?" He directed at Munch. "Stuff was terrible."
John, in an attempt to repay the support he'd gotten earlier, played along and shrugged. "Some non-entity one stop a few blocks away. Just be glad it hadn't been one of my concoctions. You'd still be in the hall."
Attention successfully deflected from himself, Elliot looked at the monitor. Fin and Olivia were still sitting right where they had been, hands clasped together. Jay and Ryan were still off camera. He looked at Cragen.
"We might have a way in," Don said, this time sure he had Stabler's attention.
Elliot frowned.
Cabot, who had since come back, frowned as well. "You don't look like you're too happy with whatever the plan is."
"'Unhappy' is putting it mildly." Cragen agreed. "But we might not have any other choice." Looking at Lt. Aston, he nodded, giving the HRT team leader the floor.
"Our VR technicians have been lucky enough to be studying a project only a few years old. It's called RHex, the Ambulatory Robotics Lab in Montreal gave birth to the thing. McGill University." Phil produced a glossy handed to him by his tech and gave it to Cragen who laid it out on the table.
It was a rectangular, about the length and width of a skateboard, and about three feet thick. Or deep. It had six crescent shaped legs, three on either side, and straps on the top that, in this picture, were holding a couple of small sleeping bags in place.
Elliot looked up with a 'you're kidding' expression on his face.
John spoke before he could. "You want to send them a Transformer?"
"RHex is a power - and computation - autonomous hexapod robot with compliant legs and only one actuator per leg," the tech piped up proudly, obviously enamoured with the thing. "It's presently being commercialized by Mecheligent."
Blank stares.
Cragen looked embarrassed.
The tech looked at them like he couldn't believe they weren't as excited as he was. So he went on. "It's the first documented autonomous legged machine to have exhibited general mobility at speeds exceeding five body length's per second."
"English." John pressed impatiently. "I don't speak Geek."
"About two and a quarter meters per second," came the clarification. "This thing is unbelievably versatile. It can negotiate a wide variety of rugged terrains over thousands of bodylengths, or about thirty-seven hundred meters on one set of batteries. It can carry up to three times its own body weight, take slopes exceeding 45 degrees, swim, and climb stairs."
Glazed expressions became a lot more interested as soon as the last two words left his mouth.
"Climb stairs," Elliot repeated.
The technician nodded. "A color camera and onboard image subsystem supports dynamic state sensing, self-localization and terrain navigation. The proprioceptive sensing suite, a three-axis accelerometer and three-axis fiber optic gyroscope, affords it automated recovery of correct heading in the face of severe perturbations from unexpected external forces, significantly reducing operator load. Some of our VR guys have been up in Montreal working with its control system...Last March, we got it vertical," he said and beamed like a proud father. "Using only two actuated degrees of freedom, we turned it into a stable biped robot and got it up on its rear legs."
"This is all fascinating science fiction," John murmured. "But how does a robot in Canada help hostages in New York?"
Phil Aston smiled. "It's with us. The military's been just as interested as we have been. They decided they wanted to see what it could do if put into a hostile environment. They've been looking for implementation in the field and asked us to help with the simulations. Last month McGill University leased it. We have free reign with it to put it through what tests we will. The contract ends this December. We can load it with the food and the jackets, as well as whatever we need to neutralize the situation. Since Jay doesn't seem too keen on live personnel coming in on him, we send it down for us instead."
"Neutralize," John mused, not liking how it sounded.
Aston nodded. He waved over one of his men and this man held up a cylindrical black metal object. Complete with handle...and pin.
Suddenly Alex understood and her mouth dropped in shock and she looked at Cragen in disbelief. "You're going to use it as a weapon."
The light clicked for Elliot too and he shook his head. "You want to send a machine armed with a damn grenade into a closed room ... and then detonate it?" He looked at Don angrily. "With ourpeople inside?"
"XM84 stun grenade," Aston replied. Cragen put his hands in his pockets and would not meet his detectives' eyes. "It's a non-fragmentation, non-lethal "Flash and Bang" grenade that is intended to provide a reliable, effective non-lethal means of neutralizing & disorienting enemy personnel. It's a self-contained explosion. There's no shrapnel."
"It's still a goddamn grenade!" Elliot hollered.
"Captain..." Cabot looked horrified at the very suggestion. Good God, no wonder Cragen hadn't looked happy with this.
Surprisingly though, it was Huang that spoke up. "Stun grenades have proven extremely effective in situations like ours," he said in his soft voice. "Situations in which we don't and can't have physical presence in the vicinity. There are no windows. The only way we know what's happening in that room is through our fiber optics and we have no way to diffuse the situation if things start to go wrong." He paused and looked at them all. "I'm deeply concerned with the effect Ryan is having on Jay," he told Cragen. "He was a follower in the beginning, but his threat to harm Detective Tutuola if we extracted Detective Benson suggests he's not going to be content to take the side seat much longer. He's becoming increasingly impatient and physical and he's already demonstrated that he will not agree to anything that might mean incarceration for his actions. He could easily become violent. If the stress becomes too great, he could quote/unquote "snap" entirely and Jay will become a possible third hostage. We have an opportunity to end this without injury."
Elliot looked at the profiler like he'd lost his mind. He'd been marine. He'd used one. He knew what they did. "You're actually suggesting we use that thing..."
"I'm suggesting we take it into serious consideration," Huang amended calmly. "We need control, and so far, Ryan is the one with the most. We have to turn the tables. This might be the only way to end this peacefully."
"Let's just say for the sake of argument, that we agree to this," Cragen said. He'd not agreed to anything in his office until this had been broached to the rest of the team. "What exactly is that thing going to do to when it goes off down there?"
The operative holding the grenade replied, "The M84 contains a minimal amount of explosives and, when initiated, produces illumination through oxidation, or burning of the components of the charge. Some non-toxic smoke is produced in minimal amounts but is very dense, very thick and spreads fast. The light temporarily blinds personnel within a nine yard radius of the flash point, and the smoke causes disorientation."
"So that's the 'flash'. What about the 'bang'?" John asked, staring intently at the device.
"The bang is simultaneous with initiation of the grenade," the man went on. "Noise levels are typically above 170 decibels upon detonation. It's intended to temporarily confuse, blind, and deafen enemy targets making infiltration safe and neutralization non-lethal."
"Safe for the infiltrators," Munch reminded them all with a shake of his head. "What about lasting effects? The hell's this thing going to do to my partner?"
"In tests and based upon observation of use in the field, the effects range from mild to moderate and consist of lung irritation from the smoke, ringing of the ears, and loss of direct frontal vision." He got a couple of blank looks. "They're going to be snow-blind for a couple of hours," he simplified. "Kind of like when you stare at a light bulb for too long and then look away to an area that's darker...all you see when you look straight on at something is a square of white, right? That's the 'flash'. It ensures the enemy's not going to be able to see anything straight in front of them if they look at it head on. Safeguards against our personnel being shot when we move in."
The squad room was very quiet for quite a long time. Alex had her eyes closed and her hands over her mouth, like she was trying to warm them. She was shaking her head. Huang looked like he always did, collected and professional with his brilliant mind in continual motion. John and Elliot were staring at Cragen, who looked torn.
He took his time before speaking. "You said it's non-explosive. Warner's got some pretty volatile stuff down there," he said. "What are the chances that detonating this is going to ignite something that does explode?"
"We're well aware of what it will and won't react with," Phil assured him. "If we can get a detailed description from your ME about what kind of chemicals she keeps where, we'll be able to position RHex well away from those sources that could be combustible. It'll go off where we want it to, or not at all."
Cragen chewed on this for a moment, his eyes on the computer screen. Fin and Olivia were sitting right where they had been, hands still locked together. Olivia had her head back against the cupboard doors, her eyes closed. Fin was watching the door, at the same time using his other hand to rub the one of hers he held as if warming her fingers would warm the rest of her. He glanced at the clock. It was eight-thirty. His detectives had been down there now for almost eleven hours. The room was freezing, the temperature would only keep falling, and Ryan was becoming more of a real threat than a nuisance.
"Okay." He nodded and looked up at his people. "We send it in with the jackets and breakfast," he said. "But that thing doesn't go off unless we have no other choice," he said strongly at Aston. "John, Elliot, I want you to work with HRT and get this ready."
"My men have extreme weather jackets ready and a few of your guys already left to bring in some bagels," Aston told him.
"Good. Let's hope we don't have to use that," he nodded at the grenade. "Doctor Huang and I will keep talking to Jay, hopefully we can talk him down. Let's try to get another phone in there as well with the jackets in case Olivia's batteries don't hold up to the estimation." He looked at Cabot and, knowing she wanted to help but hadn't had a chance to out of the morale support sidebar, put a hand on her slender shoulder. "Alex," he said. "Call Bellevue, check on Melinda. And let's find out what she keeps where down there."
The A.D.A. had already pulled out her phone and was walking away and up the stairs to the crib to get a bit of quiet and privacy for the conversation. Aston was speaking into his radio ordering his technologies department mobilized and RHex ready for the intended modifications.
"Captain," Elliot began.
"Elliot." Cragen held up his hands and looked at him and John. "I know. I don't like it either. But right now it's all we have. If Ryan goes off the deep end, we either let someone trained to take them out do it, or we leave it to Wallace and risk him killing everyone."
John just stared at him. Right. Blow a concussion grenade in their faces, or wait for Jay's psychotic cousin to empty his gun in each of them. He shook his head.
"Some choice."
Hour
11
(9:00
am)
Autopsy
suite
Like a student dozing in a class not realizing they'd drifted off, Olivia startled awake when Fin shifted slightly beside her. Fin didn't say anything as she shook off the disorientation in the dimly lit room. He just sat where he was, her one hand held between both of his as he watched the doorway. His own fingers stiff from the cold, he didn't realize how cold hers were until while rolling his neck, he looked down.
"Crap, Liv." He lifted his hands to his face and blew into them to warm hers. "The hell didn't you say something?" Her nailbeds were almost purple and he was leaving white marks on her skin wherever his fingers pressed.
"What good would it've done," she murmured and inhaled deeply and slowly. She couldn't help it anymore. She also couldn't hide it. She was shivering, the small muscles in her arms and shoulders vibrating in a pathetic instinctual effort to warm the rest of her body. "What are you doing?" She stared at him.
He still had a hold of her hand, but he was ridiculously trying to pull out of his long-sleeved shirt. "What's it look like."
"Put it back on." He'd gotten it halfway off and was trying to pull it over his head.
He didn't say anything.
"Fin." She shook her head. "Leave your shirt on."
Shirt partway off and hanging from one shoulder he glared at her. "Why you gotta fight me on this? Y'know, women used to think it was a gentleman that would give his shirt for her."
"You're right, I think you're a gentleman. Now put your shirt back on. I've seen too many men with beer guts without shirts to be objective and I'm too damned tired to look at your hairy chest for another four hours."
Grumbling to himself about women and independence, hers precisely, he pulled it back on. He was just sliding his arm back through his sleeve when the double doors parted and Jay and Ryan came back into the suite. They'd come back in once before, the cell phone had begun ringing, but Jay'd taken it back out into the hall. Fin had watched him hang up after talking for a few minutes, and then the two had remained in the hall.
"Captain's sending down some bagels and a couple jackets," Jay said with and odd almost guilty undertone. He set the phone on the counter. "Some robot something or other. Be here around ten." He shrugged. "We're uh," he cleared his throat. "This...it'll be over soon. I promise."
Suddenly the cold Fin felt had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. Something was wrong. Ryan was checking the clip in his gun with steady hands, glancing at the two of them every so often, and Jay wasn't looking at either of them at all. Whatever discussion had taken place out in the hallway, Wallace had had control of. Consequently it appeared he now had just as much control over Jay.
Tutuola felt Olivia tense beside him and knew she knew, as he did, that the scales had just been tipped a direction decidedly not in their favor.
xxxxx
(9:28
am)
Precinct
Huang stared at the grainy black and white image before him. Outwardly he appeared perfectly calm. Inwardly, he was panicking. The balance of power had shifted before his eyes. Jay was now the one sitting doing nothing while Ryan paced and issued commands. Cragen had explained over the phone how they were going to get the food and jackets inside, and then Ryan had told him to hang up. He'd told his cousin this before. This time however, Jay had listened, and the two had gone back inside the suite. Olivia's phone sat on the counter, going unanswered - Ryan would bark at Jay not to answer it, and Jay would set it back down and just let it ring. Now all four were silent. The expressions on Olivia and Fin's faces revealed that they realized, as the profiler was realizing, that one way or another, this would probably be over in a couple of hours.
"The most direct way into the suite is through the bay doors," Lt. Aston was saying. He was walking the team through each phase of the plan as it would be executed. RHex was being outfitted with the grenade and everything else was being strapped down.
"My techs will be operating him wirelessly, from our unit across the street," the HRT team leader continued. "He goes in, down the stairs. They'll have to open the stairwell doors. Suite doors he can push open himself but they're already there, so." He shrugged. "Once we get him inside, we position him here." He pointed to a spot on the screen near the island counter in front of where Fin and Olivia were sitting. Warner had told Alex that most of the chemicals she had in the suite itself, she kept against the walls near the doors.
"So that thing's going to go off right in front of them," Elliot muttered.
"It's the best we can do," Aston said. "We put him against the far wall across from the doors, by the bay doors, he's away from the combustibles but too far away from the hostiles for the maximum stun. And obviously we can't park him anywhere near the front doors or up goes the Formalin and, Happy New Year. We have a chemical fire on our hands."
Cragen nodded. "Go on," he said, looking at Elliot. The man looked like he was trying to control a temper the captain already knew was close to being lost - he'd been on edge since he came back from being sick in the hall.
"Once he's in position, I've got two infiltration teams ready for when we detonate. One's positioned outside the bay doors, the other will be stationed upstairs in the offices off the stairwell."
"Unacceptable." Eyes turned to Elliot. "Forget it. Jay doesn't want anyone up there but he's gone all Rain Man on us and Ryan's out of control. They hear anyone up there, Wallace's going to start shooting."
"It'll be the same stealth team that retrieved the security tapes, detective," Phil said. "They're not going to be heard."
"We--"
"So he's in position," Cragen cut Stabler off. "How do we blow it?"
"Remote detonation," one of the techs said. "We've rigged a line inside the battery box that connects to the pin on the grenade. When it's time, we snip the line, pin comes out, and we've got a five second delay before initiation."
"Five seconds." Cragen pursed his lips and looked at Elliot. "And what if something happens in those five seconds? They find the grenade, disarm it, maybe make this really exciting and toss it by the Formalin. Or better still, that crackpot moves the damn robot himself, and there goes your perfect positioning."
"Elliot," Cragen warned.
"The second the grenade goes, the team outside blows the bay doors," Phil tried to keep explaining.
"Blows." Elliot again.
"Don't worry, detective, my team is fully trained and has the equipment necessary to do this without making more than a scorch mark on the doors themselves. Single line vertical claymore, no concussion - it severs the hydraulic lines and gives us entry ten times more quickly than trying to push them open manually. The team outside moves in from the bay, the team inside moves in from upstairs. Ten seconds, they're boxed in. Extraction team moves in behind the bay team..." He looked at Cragen. "Thirty seconds, tops. If it goes to plan, the extraction team will have your people out before the containment team has cuffs on Jay and his cousin."
"If all goes to plan..."
"Elliot," Cragen warned again.
"No." Stabler pointed a finger at his captain. "This is messed up Captain and you know it."
"Detective, my men have executed takedowns like this countless times--"
"This isn't 'countless' times, Aston, this is THIS time--"
"--in the past--"
"--and those are our partners in there!" The two men were hollering back and forth at each other, finishing their statements as if the other man weren't speaking at all.
"--and each time this same plan--"
"Your plan is more likely to get them killed than i--"
"--has gone off flawlessly. We've got a near ninety-five percent success--"
Elliot was right up in Aston's face by this point. "The only two things you're doing really successfully right now is Jack and shit," he raged, gesturing wildly. "And Jack's already left town!"
"Elliot!" Cragen shouted.
"Detective, I understand that those are people you care about..." Aston reach out to put a hand on Elliot's arm.
Elliot jerked himself away.
"Okay." Phil raised his hands to signal he'd not meant anything by the gesture, but Stabler, hyped up with the tension and blinded by anger he couldn't control, took it as the beginning of an act of aggression and reacted accordingly.
Before John, who was standing behind him, could restrain him, Elliot let his arm sweep forward. There was a solid 'smack' as his fist connected soundly with the side of Aston's face.
In a flash Cragen was between them and John finally got purchase on his arms from behind.
"Getchyour hands off me," Elliot snapped and, shoving Munch back a pace, shook himself free.
"Elliot, I want you out of this squad room!" Cragen bellowed. Aston was backing off, a hand to his face. "You find a room or go home...either way I don't want to see you back here until you're under control, am I clear detective?"
Elliot turned without saying a word and bodily brushed himself past other startled officers around them.
John started after him, but Don stopped him. "John. Let him go."
There was silence in the squad room. In twenty minutes, RHex would be deployed. God willing, in thirty Olivia and Fin would be out and Jay and his cousin in custody. Cragen looked at the monitor. Nothing had changed. Ryan paced muttering to himself, Fin and Olivia watched Jay, Jay kept his eyes averted from everyone. The cell phone sat on the counter.
Huang caught the stare, and the conflicting emotions contained within. "Go." He prompted with a subtle nod of his head in the direction Elliot had stormed. "I'll keep calling." And he slipped his headset back on already knowing the phone would continue to go unanswered.
The captain put a grateful hand on the profiler's shoulder as he moved behind him and strode out the squad room doors.
John let out a somewhat strained breath and shook his head. "Always a party."
xxxxx
Cragen eventually found Elliot in the file room.
He'd seen the detective passionate before. He'd seen him angry. He'd seen him stressed, seen him worry. But he'd never seen the man explosively emotional. He'd gotten rough with criminals before, but the volatile display out in the squad room was totally unlike him and it bothered and worried the captain.
Elliot was sitting on a fold-out step stool, his elbows on his knees, his head bent low. He was breathing heavily, deeply, like he was trying to keep himself from being sick to his stomach. There was a fist-sized hole in an old evidence box in front of him. Don approached him without touching him and spoke.
"I hope that was from a case we've already solved." Elliot didn't respond. "You want to tell me what the hell happened back there, detective?" He asked heatedly. "Why Aston has a bloody nose...and why you've just put a hole in an evidence box?"
Stabler looked up and for a moment Cragen didn't know what to think. Elliot's eyes were red-rimmed and the look of absolute miserable vulnerability on the man's face was startling. Tactics changing in his head at the sight, Don quietly closed the door to the file room and put his hands in his pockets.
"Elliot, this isn't easy on any of us," he began more softly.
Elliot ran the back of one hand under his nose and looked away. "Captain, our people are in there with that headcase and he's ready to put a bullet in every one of them. I just lost my head." He cleared his throat and stood. "Won't happen again." He moved to the door.
Cragen didn't move. He shook his head. "Not buying it." He nodded at the step ladder. "Sit down," he said sternly.
Elliot didn't back down.
"What's going on here, Elliot," Don pressed. "And don't feed me anymore crap about stress. It's horseshit. It's been hours, we're all feeling it. Now, I'm going to stand right here and we're not going back out into that squad room until you tell me why you just sucker punched a member of possibly the only task force in this city that can get our people out alive."
"Yeah, well they haven't gotten them out yet have they," Elliot snapped furiously.
"He's doing the best he can."
"IT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!"
"Detective, SIT DOWN," Cragen roared.
This time, Elliot obeyed. He didn't just sit back on the step ladder, however. It was like his legs could no longer bear weight. He dropped into it and Cragen watched as the fight left the man in a rush and he hung his head again...and this time held it in his hands. They were trembling.
"It's my fault she's even there," Elliot said, the words halting and unsteady and muffled by his arms.
'So,' Cragen thought. 'That was it.' It wasn't that 'their people' were in there. It was that Olivia was in there. He understood to a degree..hell, she was his partner, had been from day one. He sensed, though, that there was more to it than that, something behind the ferocity of the anger about the situation. He pulled up a file box and sat across from his detective.
"It's no one's fault, Elliot," he said firmly. "They were in a good place at a bad time." Inside, however, the captain was fuming at the unfairness. "If you want to point fingers, I'm the one that called Olivia in last night."
"No." Elliot looked up and Cragen was shocked to see that his eyes weren't only red ... they were moist. Elliot was on the verge of tears. "You don't get it. She went with Fin because of me. We had a fight. Up in the crib, after that IAB rep left."
Cragen chuckled. "You both deserve commendations if you're just now admitting to your first disagreement after four years." The smile faded as he looked at the stricken expression on Stabler's face. "Okay," he said quietly and crossed his arms. "Tell me what happened."
Elliot sniffed and straightened, bracing his hands on his knees and looking at the far wall. He took a breath and dove into it, explaining why they'd even begun arguing in the first place. About him learning that Olivia had been involved in him getting slapped with the evaluations. Then about watching and listening to her talk with Fin, and discovering why she'd been involved.
"I lost it Captain," he said and felt his chest tighten all over again at the memory. "There was this..." he gestured with his hands. "This haze, and I didn't stop to think about why, all I could focus on was the anger. I couldn't see past it. I went berserk, said these horrible cruel things. I--" He stopped here and swallowed thickly. He looked at his captain. "I accused her of ratting me out just to get me tossed so she could get a replacement. I didn't think about what I was saying, the words just came..." He shook his head. When he continued his voice was a little higher, a little tighter, and almost a whisper.
"I called her a coward. To her face. My partner for God's sake. She was trying to get me to go, all last week, before they forced it. She tried to talk to me last week, tell me on Thursday. I brushed her off. I just," he inhaled a tremulous and broken breath. His composure was a fault line that was about to give. "I can't get this picture of her out of my head, y'know? Of the betrayal on her face, this hurt in her eyes. That I caused." He touched his chest with trembling fingers. The near psychotic rage behind his words that night was only testament to himself that she'd been right all along - he did need counseling.
Don bowed his head and was silent a moment as his thoughts churned like whitewater. He shook his head as something struck him. A realization that made him both ill and furious at the same time. Olivia had come to him Saturday night before she'd gone home. She'd told him she was worried that certain events in the past would cost her her partner, and that she was feeling some heat to do something about it. She hadn't said who or what was putting the pressure on, and Cragen hadn't asked...he'd simply acknowledged her concern and told her that whatever she felt she needed to do for Elliot, he'd fully back her on. Only he'd not had the chance to; when the time for backup had come that night, Elliot had already left the precinct.
Sitting here now, the captain wished to God he'd asked her. Demanded it. He should never have let her go home that night, should have knocked her down and sat on her until she'd told him what, or who, was bothering her. IAB had manipulated his people one time too many...and when the smoke from this crisis cleared, heads were going to roll.
"I'm supposed to have her back, Cap," Elliot went on. "And all I can do when she tries to cover mine is shove a knife in it and twist as hard as I can..." He swallowed thickly again and took another breath. "And now she's over there with Fin in a goddamn freezing morgue with a gun pointed at her head and.." He pinched the bridge of his nose with two his thumb and finger. "...and the last thing she heard was her partner telling her that he didn't trust her..." The last two words shuddered out. "If we don't get 'em out, Cap, if this goes down wrong..." He sniffed shakily. "It...I can't... God..." The fault gave way, what little control Elliot had over his emotions failed completely, and he covered his face entirely with one hand.
The detective's anguish consumed him and Cragen could feel the guilt and the self-hate radiating off him like heat from a light bulb ready to burn out. Benson's shooting less than a month ago had done its damage to the man, but this was destroying him twice as fast. If Fin and Olivia didn't make it out of that building alive, he knew Elliot would never forgive himself. Cragen would lose the man to a place he'd not be able to pull him back from and he had to stop the freefall now before it devoured him completely.
Don stood and laid a hand on Elliot's shoulder. "Elliot." Without looking up, Elliot angrily shrugged it off and faced away. A man this totally overcome with remorse and blame did not want to be consoled or comforted, but Cragen was not to be deterred. He put his hand out again and held Elliot's arm. With a grunt, the detective stood swinging this time. Cragen dodged the flailing limb, caught Elliot firmly around the chest, and held fast. "Okay. Okay..." The iron grasp and the steady voice was all it took to bring the rest of shattered defenses down and the man crumpled in his captain's arms.
Elliot Stabler wept.
Bitter, angry tears that shook his broad shoulders with every caving heave of his chest. He held his head in his hands and Cragen just held him to his chest as he cried, supporting nearly all of the other man's weight as they stood in the middle of the file room.
The outburst didn't last long, just long enough. Cragen felt the younger man right himself and he cautiously released his grip to hold him by the shoulders. He studied him with the kind of scrutinizing but non-judgmental gaze that he was known throughout the station house for. "We okay?"
Elliot cleared his throat and sniffed. "Yeah." He wiped his eyes and nodded. "Yeah we're good, I'm good." As was typical with the male population, what support was needed had been given and now that it was over, it was if nothing had even happened. It worked. Healing would have to wait until the crisis was over, but at least the door had been opened to allow for it when that time came.
"Good." Cragen patted his arm once and let go. He flipped a hand at a faded red mark he was just now noticing in the hollow of the man's left cheek. It was faintly bruised. "The box fight back?"
Elliot put a now steady hand to his jaw and a wry smile spread thinly across his lips. "No. That uh.. Liv, she..."
"Oh." Cragen didn't need it explained. There was a beat of silence. Then, "You probably deserved it."
Stabler let out a short laugh. Understatement. "Yeah." He wiped at his nose a final time. "Yeah I did."
Cragen clapped him on the back and left his hand there as he jerked a head to the side towards the door. Nothing more was said as the captain opened the door and he and his detective left the file room.
Hour
12
(10:05
am)
Autopsy
suite
Olivia looked at her watch. It said ten. Had her internal body clock not known that referred to ten in the morning, she'd have had no way to tell. The only light in the autopsy suite was the yellow emergency lighting - sunlight had no access to this part of the basement. She felt bad about having dozed off earlier, but bloody hell...she'd gotten up at around seven Monday morning. Twenty-seven hours now. Almost thirteen of them spent sitting on the floor of a morgue now as cold as its freezer. Her head hurt, her eyes were dry and burning, and all she wanted to do was close them. Adrenaline and Fin sitting next to her were the only two things keeping her going at this point.
"Yo."
She looked up as Fin nudged her with his elbow and nodded at the door. Ryan had left, presumably to open the stairwell doors to allow for the coats and food. Olivia immediately looked at Jay. She only had a minute, maybe two.
"Jay," she began calmly but urgently. "Pick up the phone." It had stopped ringing and she had a strong suspicion the batteries were dead. "Call Captain Cragen. You can end this now before it gets out of hand."
"No one can end it," Jay said sullenly.
"Yes. Yes you can. You never wanted this to happen, and you want it to end without anyone getting hurt.."
Jay nodded, tears forming.
"So do it," she urged him carefully, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. "You know Ryan's not going to walk away from this without some repercussions for Dante and Melinda." Another nod. "This doesn't end peacefully, he's going to end up with a sniper's laser aimed at his heart..."
Jay nodded and sniffed. "Y'know, I just wanted his help with the pictures?" He wiped at his nose. "But when I told him why, he thought it'd be fun to mess around with it. Freak things out first. He sent these stupid notes. He wanted a gun." He looked up but would still not look at either detective. "He said we're going to make a statement. He doesn't want to go to prison. But it'll work, y'know? I didn't want anyone involved, but," he sniffed and shrugged. "You won't have no one comin after you because you put 'em in cuffs. I promise."
"Jesus Christ," Cragen muttered as he watched, his heart hitting the soles of his shoes. "He's going to kill all of them."
"Reverse Stockholm," Huang said, his steady tone belying a very out of control mind. "Jay feels sorry for his hostages. He sympathizes with the suffering. He wants to end their plight and keep them from harm, but his cousin doesn't want to go to prison. He believes killing them will accomplish both agendas." He looked at Cragen and Aston. "Jay's beginning to decompensate. Ryan's probably convinced him that suicide is the only way out. We have to end this now."
"Fucking hell." Aston suddenly exclaimed and, in looking at the monitor, everyone knew the reason. Ryan had just walked into the autopsy suite carrying RHex.
"Check it out," Wallace said appreciatively of the robot. He turned it in his arms, looking it over. Then, to the horror of the crisis team as a whole watching from the precinct, haphazardly laid it on its side on the counter by the front doors.
Next to three one-gallon glass jars of Formalin.
"Oh my God," Alex breathed in disbelief.
Aston began speaking frantically into his headset, ordering both strike teams into position and barking at the tech controlling RHex to see if they could do anything to right and move him. John looked stoic, unmoving and fixed on the screen. Elliot was pale and Cragen was tempted to push both detectives into a chair.
Ryan undid the nylon straps holding the jackets and a bag of bagels in place on RHex's back. Taking a bite of a cinnamon and raison bagel, he indifferently tossed one wadded up jacket to Fin, and the other to Olivia.
Clatter.
Olivia stared in surprise as a cell phone slid from the pocket of the jacket Ryan had tossed at her and skittered across the tiled floor.
"The hell?" Ryan moved to it, bent, and picked it up. His head shot around to glare at Fin and Olivia, both of whom looked liked they were staring at their own deaths and knew it, and Captain Cragen felt a bitter taste in the back of his mouth as he realized he'd just gotten them both killed.
Surprises were the worst thing you could introduce into a hostage situation, and the cell phone was a lethal curve ball. In his haste to explain RHex to Jay before Ryan had forced him to hang up, he had neglected to tell him about the extra phone they were sending down.
"This yours?" Ryan stalked over to the two detectives. He was staring at Olivia.
Unfortunately, neither her nor Fin knew about the phone either, so there was no way for them to undo the mistake.
Benson was still in shock from hearing what Jay and Ryan had talked about in the hallway. She opened her mouth to reply. "I--"
Whatever she'd been trying to say was cut off and replaced by startled inhalation as Ryan's left hand snapped out, grabbed her left arm, and roughly yanked her to her feet. "Is it yours!" He yelled again.
"Hey!" Fin shouted at him angrily.
Olivia grimaced, pain flaring through her shoulder as her heart hammered behind her ribs like fists trying to pound down a door. "I don't know where that came from," she said, her voice shaking now from something other than the cold.
"Bullshit!" Wallace shouted. He sharply tugged her closer, his grip pulling vertically on her arm and this time eliciting a quiet grunt from her. "You been planning this from the beginning, haven't you!" He accused. "I bet she has," he spat at Jay, who looked afraid to move. "Talking to your boss all this time...I told you we shouldn't have let her talk to him. Some kind of shit trap, isn't it! What, phone a goddamn bomb or something?" He looked back at Olivia and his right hand raised his gun straight at her temple.
Out of reflex, Benson whipped her head the other direction. For an instant, whether it was intentional or not, her eyes locked with the fiber optics line and Elliot Stabler lost his breath. He'd seen a lot of things in his partner's eyes before. Determination, anger, compassion. What he saw now - his chest felt as though Wallace may as well have already fired the shot. Her eyes, before she'd snapped them closed, had been filled with fear.
Real fear.
"Blow it," Elliot almost whispered, not looking at Aston.
Phil was looking at the screen. Jay was sitting right in front of the jars of Formalin. "He--"
"Blow it, goddamnit, he's going to kill her!" Elliot exploded.
Aston, his hand on his mouthpiece and hovering to give the order, looked at Cragen.
She'd been nervous before, maybe even gone so far as anxious, but for the first time in her life Olivia Benson was truly afraid.
Fin, however, was just plain pissed. He'd had it with Ryan, and this had gone too far. Cragen's move or not, this was going to end. Springing from his spot against the cupboards he lunged for the heavier set man ... whose reflexes were surprisingly agile for his physique. He swung the gun down hard and fast, catching Tutuola across they eyebrow with a sickening crack. Fin dropped back to the tile on his back, moving, but dazed.
"No!" Olivia exclaimed and turned to her right to reach for him as he fell. She'd forgotten Ryan still had hold of her left arm, and was quickly reminded of her position when her movement gave him the leverage he needed to spin her around so her back was to his chest. This time she couldn't hold it back and she cried out in pain as her arm was wrenched behind her and she felt, and heard, something in her shoulder give. She grabbed at it with her right hand as her knees buckled.
"Hey!" This time, it was even too much for Jay, and he stood, gun aimed at his cousin. After all, they were cops. He worked with them. He knew them. Plan or no plan, the abuse was excessive.
"Back off!" Ryan shouted, his own gun now aimed at Jay. He was completely out of control, his face flushed and his eyes wild. He did not release his grip on Olivia, and her arm was angled up behind her even as she was now on her knees.
Fin was only just starting to come back around.
"Strike teams, in position," Aston was saying loudly into his headset. "Hold for initiation."
"Get him on the phone!" John was now was shouting at Cragen.
The captain had already dialed the extra cell phone and the ringing was shrill and surrealistically loud as it sounded back into the squad room through the fiber optics line in the suite. "C'mon," he urged frantically as he stared at the standoff unfolding in front of him. "Pick it up..."
Ryan stared at the phone as it started ringing. Infuriated and over the edge, he picked it up and hurled it against the wall, shattering the back off it and sending little shards of plastic flying as it hit the floor, now totally useless.
"Ryan..." Jay was talking to his cousin now. "This wasn't the deal..."
"The fuck it matter how it goes down?" Ryan spat back. "We're gonna do it, let's just fucking do it already!"
"Jay," Olivia began through heavy breaths, having already figured out what her and Fin's fate was to be. "Please don't do this.."
"Shut up!" Ryan pointed his gun at the back of her head.
She ignored him and implored Jay from her knees in front of Ryan. "Jay please...it doesn't have to happen like this."
"This how a cop pleads for her life!" Ryan sneered, shaking his head mockingly at Jay.
"I'm pleading for yours!" Olivia shouted back, tears of pain now starting to spill through closed lids as she bent her head and tried to catch her breath. "You do this, neither of you will walk out alive and if you do, you'll both go to prison for murder..."
Ryan snorted. "The hell makes you think we're going to prison?" He looked across the room at Jay. "C'mon man. We agreed. This is the way it goes down. Let's just get it done!"
Jay didn't shift his aim but it was obvious in the way his gaze shifted shakily between cops and cousin that his sudden burst of independence was slipping away again.
"You go chicken shit on me, I swear to God man I'll kill you myself," Ryan vowed angrily.
"Upstairs is clear, claymores on the bay doors ready. Strike teams are in position." Aston reported to Cragen.
"I want every unit out there ready to go!" Cragen ordered no one specifically and several officers scrambled from their chairs. "EMTs, fire, I want them at those bay doors yesterday!" His eyes were glued to the monitor. "C'mon jay...move away," he begged the man to move from the counter. If they detonated with him standing right in front of them, the chemical would go up when the grenade went off.
They watched as Jay stood frozen, his weapon trained on his cousin, his cousin's weapon trained down at Olivia, and Fin lying a few feet away with blood oozing from a gash across his right eyebrow. Everything hinged on Wheylan.
A moment passed and then Jay's resolve crumbled. Heaving and anguished sigh, he looked away from Ryan, and dropped his gun ... only to raise it again and aim it straight at Fin.
"God, no," Elliot muttered, his mouth as dry as cotton and his eyes wide and horrified. Without waiting for any kind of decision, he pushed away from the crowd and bolted from the squad room. John was right behind him.
"Captain..." Aston prompted. Don looked like he was going to be sick.
"Jay." Ryan snapped his cousin out of his daze and the two locked eyes. "Now or never man. Let's do this shit."
A pause lasted an eternity, but Jay never moved away from the counter behind him which lay RHex and the Formalin. Taking a deep breath, Wheylan nodded. "Okay," he breathed, and looked back down at Fin.
"Do it." Cragen's voice was a breath of air.
The clicks of weapons being cocked simultaneously jolted through the squad room.
"DO IT!" Don shouted.
"We have a go. Detonate!" Aston bellowed through his headset. "Repeat, detonate!"
There was a 'pop' and a deafening eruption of noise ripped through the autopsy suite. Blinding white light blazed through the computer monitor and picture was lost as smoke from the stun grenade billowed from RHex's ruined body and filled the room.
"Extraction teams, we have initiation, go! Go go go go go!"
There might have been almost no visual, but the optics' audio was working just fine. There was the sound of shattering glass and a man screamed as the Formalin exploded. Behind the thick smoke generated by the stun grenade, a new, reddish orange glow was replacing the brilliant white of the oxidized flash. A quite roar began to grow with it as the air in the suite began to pop and crackle.
Fire.
"Dear Lord," Cragen murmured. Alex let out a strangled half-sob behind him.
There was a hiss and then a splutter as both the water and the Halon ceiling mounted sprinklers reacted to the blaze and glass jars and cupboard doors continued to shatter and explode. Formalin splattered around the suite by the explosion went ablaze near the southeast wall floor, and a split second later the fiber optics were gone.
There was a blip, static, and then the computer monitor went dark and the squad room went totally silent.
End Part 9
