Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.

Author's Note: I realize that you are probably all about to throw something in frustration….please be patient. I PROMISE you that I WILL reveal the secrets soon….it will all come together, honest!

"Team one in position."

"Team two in position."

"Team three in position."

"Team four in position."

Detective Mark Marino picked up the radio attached to the dashboard of the van after the last one had finished reporting. "Copy that, everyone," he said. "Target is in team five's perimeter and heading south."

Olivia watched the detective in admiration. She had to hand it to him…these Narcotics guys knew how to put together a covert operation. Marino was in charge, and it seemed like he had thought of everything.

Five large closed-circuit televisions were mounted in the roomy interior of the van they were sitting in, and gave them visibility from every team's position. She was sitting between Cragen and a detective named Daniels, her eyes trained on the TV in the middle…the one that was following Elliot's every move.

Elliot strolled down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets. He had his head slightly bent and walked briskly, avoiding direct eye contact of the people around him doing the same thing he was. He drew no glances from anyone passing by. His purpose was to blend in with the stream of city commuters, and he looked to be succeeding.

He spotted the green van out of the corner of his eye. It was sandwiched between a Honda and a Lexus in front of a pizza joint. It had "Mike's Mosquito Control" plastered on the side in neon yellow letters, and it too drew no glances.

"Test one."

He heard Olivia's voice in his ear suddenly. "Got you, Liv," he confirmed.

"Test two."

"Loud and clear, Benson," came Munch's voice.

Elliot's face cracked into a grin as he passed Munch, who was leaning up against the side of a building. He kept his face down, but he knew his friend had seen him.

"Nice jacket, Fonzie," he muttered with a laugh, his steps never slowing.

"Bite me, Elliot," came the reply.

Olivia bit her lip at the exchange to keep from giggling. Cragen just rolled his eyes at the immaturity of his team.

Continuing down the street, Elliot came to an intersection and turned the corner where The Matador was. A group of thugs was standing near the corner, and he was amused to see Fin in the middle of them.

"Hey, hey….keep walking, white boy!" Fin yelled out when he saw Elliot pause.

As the other men around him laughed and tossed out jeers of their own, Fin met Elliot's eyes as he raised his head quickly. It happened too fast for the others to notice. Fin saw the laughter glittering in the blue eyes as he ducked his head back down and continued on his way.

"You just wait till this is over," he heard Elliot mumble good-naturedly. A minute later, his partner came in as well.

"White boy?" Munch asked incredulously. "That seems a little tame for such a big, bad thug like you, Tutuola."

Inside the van, Detective Marino looked at Cragen with a raised eyebrow and an amused grin.

Don shook his head. "I lay no claim on the three stooges, Mark," he said dryly. "They've been that way since I've known them."

Mark chuckled. "Lucky you have one who has her head on straight." He jerked his head toward Olivia. "Someone has to keep the kids under control."

She choked on a laugh, and Cragen shook his head again. "Don't let appearances fool you," he said. He glared playfully at her. "She's the worst one out of all of them…she and Stabler have been known to fight like two year-olds."

The radio crackled, startling them. "Target is now in team three's perimeter." It quickly snapped them back to focus.

Elliot stepped into the doorway of the entrance. He glanced at the large sign that said CLOSED and tugged on the door handle. Rattling came from the top of the iron door, and he looked up to see chains wrapped around the slim bars at the top.

"Anyone got a key?" he asked wryly.

Marino took hold of the radio. "Go around back," he instructed. "There's a fire escape that's unlocked. Place is empty at this hour of the morning."

Sighing, he walked down the sidewalk toward the rear of the building. I knew that would be too easy. He stepped into the deserted alley and began looking for the fire escape. Dumpsters and crates littered the area. After a minute, he finally found the black door embedded in the brick.

When he tugged on the door handle, nothing happened. Furrowing his brow, he gripped the rusty handle and pulled harder. Still nothing.

"Umm…" Stepping back, he looked around. "Ok….want me to climb up the wall?"

Olivia looked at Marino in confusion as they were watching. He too looked confused, and it was evident in his tone when he keyed in to Elliot. "Huh….that's odd," he said. "I could swear that door was unlocked when we checked it this morning." He looked over to Cragen. Clearly, this was not a part of the plan, and they weren't prepared.

Eying the door suspiciously, Elliot went back up to it. Planting his feet, he got a firm grip on the handle and jerked upward hard.

The door squeaked loudly as it flew opened. He was knocked off balance with the force and was sent crashing onto his back.

Damn it! He could hear the muffled laughter of the surveillance team in his earpiece, and his face flushed as he quickly got to his feet.

"Are you alright?" Olivia asked, trying to mask her giggles.

He huffed and dusted himself off quickly. "Fine," he said brusquely. Squaring his shoulders he announced, "Got the door open."

He was blinded momentarily as he stepped out of the bright morning sunlight and into the dark bar. After his eyes had adjusted, he looked around. The place had definitely seen better days. The walls were stained several different colors, and the floor was littered with trash. The barstools were placed upside down on top of the bar, as were the chairs around each of the round tables.

"How's it look?" Elliot jumped as Olivia's voice boomed in his ear, nearly deafening him.

"Geez!" he said reaching for his ear. "Easy on the volume, would ya?"

Surprised, she looked down and saw that she was leaning against the control panel. She jumped back quickly and lowered the volume switch.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

Shaking his head, Elliot continued looking around. "No one inside," he said. At that moment, a rat scuttled across the bar top. He eyed it warily. "Well…no humans, at least."

"Alright, Elliot," Cragen said. "Come on out. Head toward 39th street."

He heard the command in the captain's voice and wisely didn't say anything. He stepped back outside and closed the door behind him, starting back around to the front of the building.

"Elliot, watch your back," Olivia said suddenly. Her eyes were on the last monitor. "Two guys coming up behind you."

He looked behind him with his eyes and slowed his pace. The two men continued following him and one of them yelled out, "Hey!"

He stopped and turned to face them, immediately profiling them. One white, 5'8", eyes menacing; the other black, 6'2", and muscular.

"What you doing in that bar, dude?" the black one sneered. He looked to be just dying for a fight.

Elliot clenched his jaw. "What's it to you?" he spat out. In the van, his colleagues were holding their breaths.

The man stepped up in Elliot's face. "Maybe you didn't hear me," he drawled. His white companion moved up as well. "That's our turf."

Elliot raised an eyebrow. "Not anymore," he said.

The white man glared at him. "What you say?" he sneered.

"I said 'not anymore'," Elliot repeated. "I'm now the owner, and that makes it MY turf now."

The man was silent for a minute. "You lookin' for a problem?" the man hissed finally.

Elliot never flinched. "No, but I can sure as hell deal with one."

They stood toe-to-toe, glaring at each other. The team closest to their position had their hands on the doorknobs of their car, ready to step in.

The black man suddenly backed down. "J, he's cool," he said to the white man.

"Sweet," the white man said.

Elliot looked at them, confused.

"We sort of watch out for the place ever since someone popped Morton," the black man explained. "We're like…unofficial bouncers, if you catch my drift."

He nodded, relaxing marginally.

"So who are ya?" the white guy asked.

Elliot froze momentarily in surprise, but quickly recovered. "Ah…Jack," he stammered. "Jack Tanner."

"These guys could be potentials," Olivia said to the captain. He nodded in agreement and keyed the mike.

"Drop it," Elliot heard in his ear.

He fumbled in his pocket and slipped his cell phone out, pretending to drop it. He startled and reached down for it, dropping the small package of "coke"-crushed up Sweet and Low mixed with talcum powder- that he had in his jacket pocket. The men looked at it, then at Elliot.

He gave them a sheepish smile and chuckled. "Sorry," he said, stooping and picking it up.

The white man looked around quickly before opening his own jacket to reveal his own package.

"So…we and Morton had kind of an "agreement," he said. "We worked for him and he never had to use cash to pay us."

The two of them were looking at him eagerly now, and Elliot almost laughed at the expressions on their faces.

"Are you…um…are you saying you want to be my bouncers?" he asked in amusement.

They nodded. "No offense man, but you look easy."

He looked at them, genuinely perplexed. "I'm sorry?"

The black man shrugged. "We can make sure no one messes with the place."

He nodded. "Hey, that sounds good," he said. "I'm new around here. Wouldn't hurt to have someone watching my back." He nodded again. "Come back tonight and we'll work out a payment plan."

"Sweet, man," the white man said, excitedly. He knocked Elliot's fist. "We'll take care of ya."

They walked off and Elliot turned, going in the opposite direction. He didn't look up when the van passed him and turned into a nearby parking garage. He kept walking, past the garage, and then doubled back once he was sure no one was watching.

He grinned as he stepped inside and flopped down beside Olivia. "And the award for best undercover detective goes to….?" he teased.

"Fonzie," he heard Fin say, and he laughed out loud, forgetting he still had the wire in place.

"Alright, boneheads," Cragen said. "Munch, Fin….head for one of the teams nearby. Everyone meet back at the house. We have some planning we need to do."

They all arrived at the precinct within a half hour. Ten other Narcotics detectives had joined the original three.

"Fin!" one of them said. "What's up, man?"

"Z…my man!" he answered, knocking fists with the detective. "Never thought we'd be working together again."

Z smiled wryly. "Yeah….lucky us," he teased.

"I feel your pain, brother," Munch piped in.

Fin glared at him. "Don't get me started, man…."

While the others were chatting, Elliot plopped down at his desk with a sigh and wearily scrubbed his eyes. The adrenaline rush had faded fast and he was now reminded of how little sleep he had gotten.

"Okay, you guys," Cragen said. He had been speaking to Marino and was now standing next to him in the center of the room. "Let's focus."

They all turned their heads expectantly towards him, having found places to lean against or sit.

"We have two potential dealers that we know of already," he said. "Did they mention to you what they were doing in the alley, Elliot?"

He didn't answer, and Cragen narrowed his eyes. "Elliot."

The other officers swiveled around towards him. Elliot had his elbows folded on top of his desk and his head was buried into them. He didn't respond.

Olivia poked him in the side, and he jerked quickly. "Yeah…oh," he said sleepily. He rubbed his face. "I'm sorry….what?"

Cragen sighed impatiently and moved on. "Did you guys get anything where you were?" he asked, gesturing to Munch and Fin.

"Nothing on my end," Munch answered.

"I hooked up with a few low-end dealers," Fin said. "Mostly petty stuff, though…none of them knew Antonio Morton."

The captain nodded. "Alright," he said. "Marino….what's your take on this? What do you suggest?"

Mark folded his arms loosely across his chest. "From what we've seen in our time with Morton, the bar usually doesn't start picking up until around 1:30 in the morning," he said. "Until then, it's mostly office workers having martinis and stuff like that. The wild crowd tends to wait until the 9 to 5 workers have gone to bed before coming out."

Detective Jeff Andrews picked up when he paused. "Word had gotten around about Morton's death," he said. "People haven't really been all that into coming out lately…they're all freaked out." He turned toward Elliot and addressed him. "You're going to have to make the place look appealing…entice them about the goods inside, but don't make it obvious."

Elliot nodded.

"Now, most of the dealers that we've been tracking don't come in through the front door," he continued. "It's all very professional…they go around back one at a time and someone lets them through the fire escape. There's a lookout on the corner who watches for cops."

"How do you guys go unnoticed by the lookout?" Olivia interjected. "I would think you'd be easy to spot." She paused after finishing her sentence and added quickly, "No offense."

Marino smiled. "None taken," he assured her. "Those closed circuit televisions we have are a god-send. We have a tech guy who hooked us up with cameras that are attached to the dumpsters around the fire escape. We see every person who comes in and out."

"But there's no cameras inside," Elliot said suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. "Seems kind of like you're doing all that work for nothing."

Mark turned to Elliot and pinned him with a hard stare. "We tried the cameras inside routine before, Detective," he said frostily. "Fourteen years ago. Harris snitched on us before we had a chance to get inside."

"Yeah…I remember that, thanks," Elliot said sarcastically. He shook his head and looked at Cragen. "Look, why are we doing this? These guys haven't been caught in fourteen years…why should this time suddenly produce a miraculous take-down?"

Marino cut in before Cragen could reply. "It's not for lack of trying, you know," he snapped. "Every time we've gotten close, someone has picked up and moved everything."

"So you're recruiting us to help erase your mistakes?" Elliot countered. He stared intensely at the Narcotics detective. "What's the matter, Marino? You need one more case in order to make Captain?"

Olivia sucked in a breath. Marino's eyes blazed as he stepped closer to the desk where her partner sat, and Elliot responded by getting to his feet. The challenge in both of their postures was clear.

"You bastard," Marino spat out. "How dare you-"

"Cut it out, both of you," Cragen snapped angrily, stepping in between them. "One more word from either of you guys and you're asses with both be taken off this case."

The Narcotics detective set his jaw tensely and backed away without another word, glaring at Elliot.

Elliot narrowed his eyes, and Don turned a fierce glare on him when it looked like he would say something. His face tightened in anger, but he shook his head angrily and looked away.

The others in the room had gone silent, tensely waiting to see what would happen next.

Don continued to glare at both of them a moment longer before turning back to the rest of the group. "Let's get a plan together," he said. "We've got five hours to work with."

Elliot sighed as the others got to their feet and quickly assembled together over Munch and Fin's desk.

An arm planted itself on his chest, stopping him. Cragen looked at him sternly. "Upstairs, now," he said. "I don't want to see you again until you have at least four hours of sleep."

"Captain," he protested irritably. His gaze landed on Olivia, and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. She smiled sheepishly, giving herself away.

Sighing, Elliot turned around and trudged sullenly up the stairs.

"Pack it up, boys," Captain Harris said, after the last druggie had been arrested. "Let's call it a night."

The officers began heading for the stairs. "Shit…hey, Craig," Elliot called to his partner, as they emerged into the cool night air. "Hold up a second, ok? I dropped my cell phone upstairs."

Officer Craig James unlocked the door of his Toyota Tundra. "Hurry up, Stabler," he called. "I'm freezing my balls off."

"You have to have balls first, James," he cracked as he started jogging back toward the building.

Elliot went back inside the warehouse and headed for the second floor.

When he opened the door to the room they had just vacated, he immediately saw his phone lying on the floor. Shaking his head, he picked it up and started for the stairs again.

Voices at the end of the hall stopped him with one foot on the top of the landing. He turned around, reaching for his gun.

'Damn…did we miss some of them?' he thought in confusion.

He pulled his radio from his hip and began walking slowly toward the sounds. "Craig," he hissed into it. "Get backup upstairs…there's some more up here."

"Copy that, Elliot," came his partner's reply. "On my way."

Sidling up to the door, he recognized the voice of the infamous drug lord, Tony Morton. He tightened his grip on his gun and flung the door open, bolting inside.

"Freeze, Morton!" he shouted, aiming at him.

However, it was Elliot who froze. He stared in shock at the scene before him. Morton was sitting at a table with a bag full of cocaine in front of him, and Captain Harris was getting ready to hand him another bag.

"Shit!" Morton cried, jumping up. The drugs fell to the floor.

Elliot looked at Captain Harris dumbly, still trying to make his brain process what he was seeing. How could the man betray them like this?

The captain locked gazes with him, staring him directly in the eyes. Then, without warning, he whipped out his pistol and fired.

"No!" Elliot screamed, bolting upright. He looked down and frantically felt for the bullet hole. His heart pounded against his chest, and his fingers shook as he groped the material of his t-shirt.

His senses caught up a moment later, and made him remember where he was. Swallowing hard, he ran a hand over his face, surprised to find it soaked in sweat. Looking down, he saw that his shirt was also soaked.

Looking up, he saw the time and decided against trying to go back to sleep. He peeled off the sticky t-shirt and tossed it on the floor, getting to his feet. He headed for the shower.