Two and a Half Seconds
They say your life flashes before your eyes . . .
After the hell he'd given her for being vulnerable, for getting hurt, for making him choose between her and the job, here he was. It was some kind of sick, ironic, cosmic joke. If there was a God, he had to be laughing now.
"You can kill us both, Victor," she said firmly. "You'll still never walk out of here."
He listened to them talk and tried to figure out what he could do to help resolve the situation.
"Just tell us where you hid her," she encouraged.
"You know, you could put the gun down. At least then, you might find her, otherwise, she's gonna die."
He looked over his shoulder, but Gitano made him face forward again by pushing the cold muzzle of the gun against his cheek. It was a small gesture, given the moment, but it terrified him even more for its insignificance. Then the gunman began taunting her.
"She's gonna die, he's gonna die, and it'll be all your fault, just like the little boy. How's your neck?"
"It's not the same thing, Olivia, you know that." He couldn't believe how calm and reassuring his voice sounded. It didn't even shake.
"Yes it is, Olivia," Gitano mocked them.
"Olivia." He heard Gitano rambling behind him, but he focused on his partner, on getting her to do what she had to do. "Olivia, look at me. Now, you can do the right thing. I didn't. I made that choice with Ryan, and it was wrong."
"Elliot," she gasped his name, and he had to ignore her.
"It was my fault. Don't do it."
"Shut up," Gitano ordered.
"Don't make that mistake."
"Stop talking!"
The angry, desperate tone told him he was a dead man in a few seconds anyway. He just had to make sure Gitano died first.
"I would have done the same thing," Olivia whispered.
"I said shut up!"
He shook his head and spoke calmly. "Don't make my mistake."
There was a noise and Gitano started screaming and shoving him forward. He locked eyes with his partner, silently pleading for her to shoot.
"Hey," Gitano barked. "Hey! HEY! I'll tell you where she is."
"Where?" Olivia's tone said she was no fool, and he was proud of her.
"She's in a van, parked in a garage in Newark. She might still be alive."
It was amazing how easily the guy lied, but then, with no conscience, there was nothing to trip him up.
"He's lying," she said with a gentle shake of her head.
"I know." He wasn't afraid any more. He knew how this was going to end, and he was ok with it.
"He's never gonna tell us." She could see where it was going, too. It was a foregone conclusion.
"You're right," he agreed.
"We can all walk out of here if you just put the gun down," Gitano calmly pleaded, almost like a trained hostage negotiator.
He could see in her eyes that she'd made up her mind.
"Honey," he tried to say, but his vocal cords failed and it wasn't even a whisper. He tried again. "It's all right."
"I'm sorry," she whispered back, anguish etched in every line of her face, and he knew she'd do the right thing.
Then he closed his eyes . . .
Two and a Half Seconds
Hail Mary, . . .
Her kisses tasted of Wrigley's Juicy Fruit Gum and beer. Sticky, sweaty fumbling in the back seat of his Camaro after their friends had all left the beach party. She told him she was a virgin. He didn't admit to her that he was one, too. They were both Catholic, so neither of them had any rubbers, but he promised her he'd pull out.
A couple weeks later, she told him she'd missed her period. He drove all the way to Harlem to buy her an EPT because he didn't want his dad finding out from someone who might recognize him closer to home. He couldn't say what scared him more, the possibility of becoming a father or the thought of getting into a beef with one of the locals hanging out in front of the drugstore. He'd already confessed to his priest and done his penance. Maybe that would buy him a second chance.
. . . full of grace, . . .
He'd really wanted to go to college, Everglades University, to be a civil engineer, to build bridges, highways, public structures that connected people and brought them together. So much the better that he'd never told anyone. The NYPD wasn't a bad fallback, and everyone thought he wanted to follow in his father's footsteps anyway. But you had to be twenty-one to join the force, and he needed the money now. So, he went to the Marine Corps recruiter.
They named the baby Maureen Meredith Stabler. He'd thought his life was over, that his dreams had died when Kathy told him the test was positive, but sitting here on the floor having a tea party, he knew they were finally coming true. And now there was another baby coming.
This time, knowing how wonderful it would be, he could enjoy the anticipation rather than resent being forced to change his life. He could watch his wife grow more beautiful every day as her due date approached. Best of all, he could be there for this one instead of just happening to be on leave for the delivery, and then learning about the rest of the baby's milestones a few days or weeks later by letter wherever he was posted with the Corps. He'd see that first smile, that first step, hear that first word, all the things he'd missed the first three years of Maureen's life. He'd never imagined he could be so happy.
. . . the Lord is with thee. . . .
"Elliot? Oh, you really are here! I thought I'd imagined it." She was relieved and delighted to see him and promptly burst into tears. "I saw the shootout on TV. They said someone was killed. Are you ok?"
"Sh," he soothed her, smoothing her hair, "I'm fine." He smiled, hiding the lingering fear and the tears he wanted to shed for the brother in blue whose funeral he would be attending in a few days.
"The baby!" she gasped, suddenly realizing why she was in the hospital. "When they said an officer had been killed, I panicked, and the next thing I knew . . . "
"Hush, Kathy, she's fine," he reassured her in gentle tones. "She's perfect." This time his smile was real. "She's beautiful. Your dad says she looks just like you did when you were born."
"She?"
He nodded.
"Another girl?" They had elected not to know the sex until the baby came. "I know you were hoping for a boy."
He shook his head. "I was hoping for a healthy baby," he said, "and that's what we got. Let's name her Kathleen."
At his wife's startled look, he smiled. "Your dad swears she looks just like you."
She nodded. "Kathleen Meghan?"
"It's a beautiful name," he agreed.
Blessed art thou among women, . . .
"Twins?" he repeated as his stomach dropped and his heart came into his throat to choke the word into a surprised squeak.
One baby would have been a financial strain; he had no idea how they were going to cope with two. With the Vatican's position on birth control, it was no wonder some of the world's poorest countries were overwhelmingly Catholic. His salary had barely kept them afloat as it was. Now Kathy would have to go back to work.
They had talked about a surgery when she was pregnant with Kathleen. It would have been easier and more economical for her to have it done while she was in the hospital after having the baby, but a vasectomy would have been easier to reverse if they ever changed their mind about having more kids. Then there'd been that shootout. She had gone into premature labor on the spot and they had never made a decision. Well, the Church frowned on those surgeries as much as it did condoms and the Pill anyway.
"Twins," he repeated again, smiling this time. He couldn't help it. It wouldn't be easy, but he loved being a dad. He'd never get over watching his babies turn into their own little people. The miracle of birth didn't stop in the delivery room. If he could have afforded it and Kathy had agreed, he'd have had a dozen kids.
He looked at her with tears of joy in his eyes. She smiled at him, and they laughed together.
"Twins!" they said in amazement and laughed again.
. . . and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus . . .
"Sex crimes? Elliot!"
"And child abuse and elder abuse," he told her calmly. "And it's more money."
"And more hours," she argued. "There aren't any other openings?"
"In narcotics, but they go under cover all the time. I'd never be home."
She was still hesitant, but he had an ace in the hole. He knew it wasn't fair, but he played it now anyway.
"Look, it gets me out of uniform and out of the patrol car," he reminded her. "I won't get called to every domestic dispute and liquor store hold up in the precinct. There's less chance of getting shot at and more chance of coming home at night."
He didn't mention that it would also give him the opportunity to save children from the kind of hell his father had put him through. He never mentioned his father. He and Kathy had grown up together, and she knew all about it.
Her hesitation evaporated. "Ok, you win."
"It's not about winning," he said.
"With you, it's always about winning, Elliot, because it's always about getting your way. If the choice were which detective squad to join, I'd rather see you in homicide, white-collar crime, even vice. But if the choice is SVU or a patrol car, how can I say no to something that makes you safer? Just tell me this isn't about your dad."
He looked her dead in the eyes and said as sincerely as possible, "It's not, Kathy."
"That look will work on your suspects, but I've known you all my life, Elliot." She sighed and rested her chin on her folded hands and thought a moment. "Call the captain and tell him you're in."
"You're sure?" he asked, surprised that he hadn't fooled her.
"If I thought it would make any difference, I'd say no," she told him, "but frankly, I'm surprised you even bothered to ask."
He frowned, deeply hurt that she would feel that way. "I'm sorry, Kath, but this is important to me."
"I know," she said with a forgiving smile. "I just wish you'd have trusted me enough to say so in the first place. Go ahead and do what you have to do, Elliot. I'll be all right."
"Thank you." He leaned across the table and gave her a warm, grateful kiss. "I love you, Kath."
Holy Mary . . .
He sighed as he came into the squad room and saw Alphonse's empty desk. He missed his partner even more than he had expected, but he was glad to know the big guy had made it to retirement. Too many cops weren't that lucky. For just a moment, he wondered if he would be.
"Elliot, could you step into my office, please?"
Cragen's solicitous tone immediately put him on guard. He put his lunch in his locker and crossed the room, keenly aware that all eyes were on him. As he approached the Captain's door, he tried to remember what he'd screwed up lately, but he couldn't think of anything.
Two steps into the room, and he was stopped cold but his first look at a stunning young brunette. He tried to think if he'd seen her face on a billboard or a magazine cover somewhere, maybe a movie trailer, but he was drawing a blank. Cragen had to be handing him this case because he was the only one in the squad without a partner. Naturally, as far as her agency and the studio were concerned, the fewer people looking into this young lovely's personal life, the better.
"This is Olivia Benson, Elliot," Don said. "She's your new partner."
He instantly regretted the frown of confusion that crossed his face. It was no way to make her feel welcome.
"Pleased to meet you," he said mechanically as he reached out to shake the hand she had offered. Glancing over her shoulder at Cragen, he read his CO's look clearly. I know she's young, but trust me.
"I look forward to working with you," Olivia said in a warm, honeyed voice that would naturally put victims and suspects alike at ease.
Now he smiled at her. "Well, let's get you set up," he suggested.
She grinned back, bright and eager. "Lead the way!"
As they returned to the squad room together, Elliot could practically read his colleagues thoughts. Munch's amused little smirk said as clearly as words what he was thinking. It was too ironic that he, the only married man in their tight-knit little group, got to swap gruff and grouchy, fat old Alphonse for a looker more suited to the cover of Vogue than the NYPD. Briscoe and Cassidy, the new kid who had joined them last week, were practically drooling. He could almost smell the lust rolling off them. And Jeffries? She was pissed. She'd been the only woman on their team for too long, and she was jealous over the attention this new girl was getting. But Monique was a pro; she'd get over it.
Just as he pointed Olivia into Alphonse's old chair, the phone rang, and she snatched it up before anyone else could move.
"Benson, Special Victims." She grimaced at him as she realized her faux pas. It wasn't her place to be taking calls yet, but he held both arms out to her and turned his palms up, gesturing magnanimously for her to continue.
Nodding her appreciation, she grabbed a tablet and pen from his desk, grimaced when she saw how he had chewed up the pen, and began writing down the information from the caller.
Looking over his shoulder, Elliot grinned at Cragen. She was going to fit right in.
. . . Mother of God . . .
"I'm telling you, Alphonse, she is drop-dead, knock-out gorgeous!" he said, watching out the window so he would see when Kathy came home. "A stone-cold fox, a looker, a honey, a hot mama, and any other name you can think of. For the first couple of days, Monique Jeffries was green with envy and Briscoe and Cassidy could barely talk to her without getting hardons."
He laughed at his colleagues' difficulties, but only a little. He was having problems of his own with his new partner, none of which were her fault.
"So, have you introduced her to Kathy yet?"
Elliot almost groaned. Sometimes it was damned inconvenient to have a partner, or an ex-partner, who knew him so well. How could Alphonse read him like that over the phone from Florida?
"I don't think that would be such a good idea."
"Why not? Does Kathy have something to worry about?"
"No, but if I weren't married . . . "
"Stop right there, Kiddo," Alphonse warned him. "Don't pursue that thought any further. In fact, don't ever think it again. If you give it too much of your attention, Kathy will have a reason to be jealous, and you'll have a whole world of trouble on your hands."
"Alphonse . . . " he said as if the notion were ridiculous.
"I mean it, Kid," the retired cop insisted. "You need to invite that drop-dead, knock-out gorgeous, stone-cold fox over to dinner and introduce her to your wife and kids right away. That way, you and she will both know that your partnership is strictly business."
"What about Kathy?" Elliot asked.
"As soon as Olivia is gone, you need to put the kids to bed, open a good bottle of wine, light a couple of candles, and make sure it leads to wild, hot, monkey sex with your wife so that she knows your partnership with Olivia is strictly business, too."
Elliot laughed. "Oh, now that sounds like a plan," he said sarcastically.
"It ain't no joke, Kid," Alphonse said.
"I'll . . . consider it," he said as the station wagon pulled into the drive. "I gotta go. Kathy and the kids are home."
"The longer you wait, the more reason she has to get pissed," Alphonse warned.
"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya," Elliot said as he moved to the door. "Take care of yourself, Alphonse."
They said their goodbyes, and Elliot helped Kathy get the kids out of the car. Whatever he did, it was going to be tricky, but Alphonse had a point.
. . . pray for us sinners . . .
"So, Olivia, why did you join SVU?" Kathy asked as she passed the corn. She was being very cordial, but Elliot could tell she was pissed off. He'd waited more than a month to introduce them, and he knew he was going to pay for his cowardice later.
Olivia thought about her answer for a moment, obviously choosing her words carefully in the presence of his children. "Vice and narcotics are victimless crimes," she explained. "In homicide, the victim is beyond help."
"Cause he's dead, right?" Dickie interjected enthusiastically, and Elliot wondered how his six year old knew what 'homicide' meant.
"Right," Kathy confirmed, "now don't interrupt."
"I can't even balance my checkbook, so white collar crime is not the place for me, and you have to establish a reputation before they'll take you in the major case squad."
"Well, that's why not everything else," Kathy said. "Why SVU?"
Olivia frowned thoughtfully and Elliot tried not to cringe. Kathy was very perceptive. He'd known for a while that Liv had a personal reason for joining the squad, most of them did, but she hadn't yet trusted him enough to tell him what it was. Sooner or later, she'd be straight with him, but it was none of his wife's business.
"I guess because it's a chance to help people. We get to take kids out of bad situations, and we help victims feel safe again by putting . . . " She glanced at Lizzie, who was seated across from her and said, "bad guys in jail. Most other detectives don't get that many opportunities to have a positive effect on someone's life."
"Really? I never thought of it that way," Kathy replied with a smile that showed too many teeth. "Elliot joined the squad for the money. I don't know why he stays."
Olivia frowned, and Elliot knew she could tell Kathy was lying. He was sure she wondered what the truth really was, but he was saved from having to explain by the ringing of the phone. When he heard a voice from the station, he stepped into the other room, wanting to protect his family from the details and dreading what might be taking place between his wife and his partner while he was not there to mediate.
A minute later, he returned to the dining room and tossed his keys to his partner. "Let's roll."
Liv caught the keys and stood up. "Dinner was wonderful, Mrs. Stabler, and it was nice meeting you."
Kathy tried hard to give her a genuine smile and said, "Please, call me Kathy."
"But, Daddy! I made dessert," Kathleen objected. "Your favorite. Peanut butter cup pie."
"I know, Sweet Pea, and I'm sorry. Save me a piece and I'll have it when I get home. Now say goodbye to Olivia."
Kathleen folded her arms and stuck her lower lip out in a pout as the other children responded almost in unison.
"Kathleen," Elliot warned.
She raised her head and snapped, "Bye!" then turned away again.
Elliot rolled his eyes and directed Olivia out of the kitchen.
"Sorry about that," he apologized as they climbed into the car.
"Don't worry about it," she said. "I'd be mad, too."
"But it's no excuse to be rude to a guest. I'll have a talk with her when I get home."
. . . now, . . .
At ten-thirty they pulled into the precinct, intending to file their reports and go home for some sleep before coming back on duty at nine in the morning. Elliot cut the lights and opened his door, but Olivia didn't move.
It had been an ugly, gory crime scene. She had been taking the victim's statement when the girl coded unexpectedly. The doctor guessed that she had thrown a blood clot, but they'd have to wait for the M.E.'s report to be sure. Whatever the cause of death, they now had a homicide, not a rape, on their hands.
"Liv?"
She looked at him with startled doe eyes.
"Look, you couldn't help her. That's not your fault, but the statement you got from her will help us catch the bastard who assaulted her."
"I know that," she said.
"Ok, then . . . " She was still staring at him. He couldn't help the puzzled half-smile that came to his face. She just did that to him sometimes when she noticed things that he hadn't. He and Alphonse had always been on the same page, but she had a different way of thinking. She complemented his style in a way his former partner had not, but sometimes she lost him.
"What is it, Liv?"
"I didn't want to say anything in front of your kids, and I don't particularly want your wife to know either . . . "
"Ooooo-Kayyy," he said reluctantly.
"I joined SVU because my mother was raped."
He chewed his upper lip while he thought about his response. Before he could reply though, she continued.
"By my father."
He could feel his eyes open wide. Now he really didn't know what to say. Again, she saved him from having to say anything.
"It was a stranger rape. I'm the baby she decided to have anyway."
Now she made so much more sense to him.
"Did they get the guy?"
She shook her head. "They didn't even have any leads."
He didn't want to confess about his father, he'd never told anyone except his wife. Not Captain Cragen, not even Alphonse, knew about the way his dad had beaten him. Then, in a moment of epiphany, he knew just what to tell her.
"You know, I want to say I'm sorry about what happened to your mom, but I'm also really glad you're here."
"Thanks," she whispered in a choked little voice.
He smiled at her, and was pleased when she smiled back. Then they got out of the car and went into the stationhouse.
. . . and at the hour of death.
"If you didn't have a guilty conscience there would have been no need to put it off!"
"I'm telling you, we're just partners," he said soothingly. He'd given up all hope of sharing a romantic bottle of wine and some wild, hot, monkey sex with his wife. The best he could hope for now was to avoid being forced to spend the night on the couch.
"If she doesn't interest you, then why did you wait so long to introduce us?"
"Because I knew you'd react like this," he replied quietly.
"Because you have a thing for her!"
"What makes you think I have a thing for her? Why in the world would I have a thing for a stick figure with jugs?"
"Elliot!"
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be crass, but I'm trying to make a point here!" There was no denying his partner's beauty, but the fact was, his wife's womanly shape held far more appeal for him than Olivia's lithe form.
"You know, I was built like her when we first started dating!" Kathy reminded him.
"Yeah, and I wasn't all that fond of your figure, either, until after you had Maureen," he replied in an offhand way that left her left her standing with her mouth agape, too shocked to reply.
He advanced toward her slowly, his arms open.
"The point is, you could be built like Jabba the Hutt, and I would still be crazy in love with you, Kathy. No partner, no matter how cute or, or . . . "
"Anorexically thin?" Kathy offered grudgingly, but with a smile, when he stopped to search for the right word.
"Ok," he agreed, knowing she was just exaggerating, ". . . or anorexically thin, will ever change that."
She let him embrace her, and his hopes for wild, hot, monkey sex were rekindled.
"And just for the record, I love your figure now that you have some curves."
"I'm too fat," she complained.
"No, you're the mother of my four beautiful children."
The way she giggled, he knew they wouldn't be going to sleep any time soon.
Two and a Half Seconds
He'd lived a good life, been a good cop, helped a lot of people. He wasn't afraid to go now, but he wished for his kids' sake that he didn't have to leave so soon.
There was the sound of a bullet being chambered and then an explosion. The pressure of Gitano's hand on his shoulder vanished, and he was surprised how much being dead felt like being alive. He looked over to see the police sniper standing up, the puff of smoke still rising around him, and realized that he hadn't been killed.
At that moment, his knees went weak and he staggered back a step. Then his heart was pounding and he was short of breath. He looked around a moment, not sure where to rest his eyes, amazed that he was still here. Then he met Olivia's gaze. She had been crying.
The SWAT team swarmed around them, all business, giving them the moment to collect themselves.
He looked away briefly, a little embarrassed to have her see how frightened he had been, a little ashamed of the way he had treated her after Ryan had been killed, a little nervous about what she might say now that she had truly saved his ass. He dropped his eyes to the floor, his mind flooded with regrets. He faced Olivia again and frowned, surprised that none of them had anything to do with what he had, or hadn't, done with her. She'd forgiven him for what he'd said before he'd ever joined her at the warehouse.
Then he heard the child crying. Even the recent terror couldn't dampen the thrill of finding her alive. They got her to the hospital, Olivia riding along in one ambulance with her while he rode in the other with Gitano's body. He'd forgotten the wound at his temple until the SWAT commander had insisted that he go get it checked out and promised a couple of his guys would take their cars back to the station.
They were told Rebecca would be ok, physically at least. Emotionally, it was anybody's guess. Then he'd talked to Olivia about the pitfalls of caring too much for one's partner, told her they could never choose each other over the job again or they'd have to quit working together. She'd been shocked, hurt, but he'd confessed to her that she and the job were the only good things in his life anymore.
He'd walked away from her then, afraid of what else he might admit. He knew she'd get over it, but now that he had time and a reason to think about his life, he was surprised by how many things he wished he had done differently. He returned to the lounge for his coat and found that she had left the hospital without saying goodbye. Maybe it was for the best.
Two and a Half Seconds
After everything he'd been through tonight, he couldn't believe he was nervous about this. He rang the bell and waited.
"Elliot, what are you doing here?"
Suddenly he wanted to weep. Gasping for breath, he struggled to form words, his mouth making odd shapes, but no sound coming out, as if his vocal cords were no longer under his control. Finally he managed to whisper, "Can we talk?"
He gave her a tentative smile. She grabbed her coat from where it hung on the rack inside the door.
"Mom, I'm going for a walk," she called over her shoulder. "Kids, help Grandma with the dishes and then do your homework."
Shutting the door, she pulled on her coat and looped her arm through his. Leading him down off the stoop, she turned onto the sidewalk.
"I saw on the news that you found the little girl alive," she said when he didn't speak for a few moments. "Is she going to be all right?"
"He didn't hurt her," he replied, "at least not physically."
"I'm really glad for you," she said.
He made it to the corner and then he stopped. He could only think of one thing to say, and it was so woefully inadequate that he could only hope she saw how much he meant it this time.
"Kathy, I'm sorry!" he sobbed, and then he clung to her, burying his face in the curve of her neck, and he stood there on the corner weeping.
"It's ok, El," she whispered, shushing him, and she put her arms around him and rubbed slow circles on his back. "It's all right."
Two and a Half Seconds
It hadn't been easy to convince the captain to give her a new partner, and it had been even harder to make him believe that it had nothing to do with their argument in the hall. Then she'd driven out to Queens to see him.
The house was dark. She didn't want to wake him, but after all this time, she couldn't bear to put it off any longer. She rang the bell and waited, but nobody came.
END
Law and Order: SVU is not mine. I just borrowed the characters for a while. No profit is being made from this story. The title came from the length of time Elliot had his eyes closed before the sniper killed Gitano.