Stabler pressed his back against the crates, breathing hard. The rifle was silent now; he'd counted five shots. He looked across the room, but saw no sign of Goren. Silently, he slid along the crates to the far edge, following his gun around the corner. One more turn and he'd see the suspect. He closed his eyes and gathered himself. Taking a deep breath, he slipped around the corner. "Police! Drop the weapon!"

Everything happened quickly but in slow motion at the same time. The suspect spun around, bringing his rifle to bear on Stabler. Both the rifle and the handgun fired at the same time. Fire burned in his shoulder as he spun instinctively away from the rifle's bullet. He could feel the blood running down his left arm, but he kept his gun trained on the suspect, who was now on the ground. Carefully advancing, gun at the ready, he kicked the rifle away before he rolled the guy over and felt for a pulse. Thready, but it was there. He pulled out his phone and dialed, calling for a bus, hoping his directions were accurate or the ambulance would be wandering the neighborhood for the rest of the night. He pulled off his shirt and looked at his shoulder, where the bullet had left a deep furrow, but it wasn't serious.

From out of nowhere, King appeared, limping, blood running down his leg. "Hey, boy, what happened to you?"

King whimpered and looked back the way he had come. Stabler knelt beside him and gave his shoulder a quick look...bullet wound. He must have caught a ricochet. "You'll be ok," he muttered. The dog whimpered again. Pulling his shirt back on, he stepped out from behind the crates. "Goren?" He trotted across the room, toward the area he'd last seen the big cop heading. "Hey, Goren?"

He looked around, but didn't see him. How the hell did he lose a six-foot-four, 210 pound cop in an empty room? He rounded the pillar and found Goren's Glock on the floor. Picking it up, he tucked it into his waistband. King trotted past him, into the shadows, and whimpered again. Stabler followed him, catching sight of a body on the ground in the shadows near the far wall. Oh, shit. Hurrying, he closed the remaining distance and dropped to his knees beside Goren. He felt for a pulse, holding his breath. If anything happened to this guy, he had no doubt Eames would rip him apart. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found a pulse, strong and steady. King laid down in front of the unconscious cop, licking his face, and Goren groaned, rolling onto his back. Stabler saw the blood on the ground and looked for the injury that left it. The bullet had hit the other detective's right arm, buried itself deep against the bone. He looked at Goren's face, half-hidden in the shadows, and saw dark eyes watching him. He nodded at his bloody arm. "You took a hit."

Goren nodded back at him. "So did you." With a groan, he got to his feet, Stabler holding a steadying hand on his uninjured arm. "What about him?" He nodded his head toward the crates.

"He's down, but still alive. There's a bus on the way."

Goren nodded, reaching down to pet King's broad head. Stabler said, "He took a bullet in his shoulder."

"I know. That bullet would have taken me out."

Stabler just looked at him, not sure what to say. He stood up and looked around the room. "I'll go down and see if the ambulance is here yet."

He pulled the Glock from his waist and handed it back to Goren before he headed down the stairs. Goren walked over to where the suspect was, still unconscious. King whimpered at him and nuzzled his hand. He absently stroked the dog's head as he stared down at the man on the ground in front of him. He was a small man, skinny, with a large nose, high forehead and no chin. He heard voices in the building below. He recognized Stabler's voice, then Benson's and Eames'. He tipped his head to the left, looking more intently at the suspect. He squatted in front of him, leaning a little closer, and he caught the scent of that mixture of colognes...Old Spice and Chanel...he remembered his father coming in, very late, very drunk, smelling that way...the arguments...the hitting... He stood up, running his hand over his hair, not liking how he was feeling right now. Another image came into his mind, then another as he felt himself slide toward a familiar chasm...no!…four little bodies, bleeding and violated…Christin, Tiffany, Lydia, Maria… He felt the rage burning in his head and his chest, making it hard to breathe. His gut clenched around a molten lump and he felt his control slipping from his grasp. He pointed his gun at the suspect's head, his finger against the trigger. "Bobby?" Her voice barely registered past the roar of blood in his ears. "Bobby--no--"

He heard the panic and pleading in her voice. He felt her hand come to rest on his, and he let her take the gun from him. The pounding rush began to calm and the red haze that clouded his vision faded. He backed away, into the crates behind him, and she came with him. He struggled to calm his breathing, but it wasn't easy. He tried to fight down the rest of his rage, but he couldn't. He could still feel her hand on his, squeezing firmly. And he felt himself step back, away from that black chasm, back to...her...

Although he could hear her voice, his brain did not register any of her words. He just concentrated on the sound of her voice. She was talking, not to converse, not expecting an answer, but to calm him, to bring him back from the edge. "Come on, Bobby..." she said quietly, pressing her hands into his chest. He closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on the grounding force of her touch, and he felt stable again.

He finally looked at her. She was right there, right up against him, and he felt safe again; his feet were back on firm ground. She could feel the tremor in his body, but his eyes were once again calm. "I...I need to get out of here."

She nodded. "Go wait with Elliot and Olivia. I'll stay here until they come to get him."

"Eames..."

"Go."

He studied her for a moment, uncertain. "We, uh, we need to get King to a vet."

"And you to a doctor."

"No, I..."

"Yes. No argument. I'll take you if you don't want to go by ambulance, but you are going to a doctor."

"Vet first."

"All right, Bobby. Vet first. Now go downstairs. Take King with you." She squeezed his arm. "We'll talk later."

He met her eyes, and, laying a shaky hand against her cheek, he nodded. "I...Eames..."

"I know. It's ok."

She laid her hand over his, and he saw in her eyes that it really was okay. He felt a little better. "Come on, King," he said tightly.

Benson and Stabler were waiting by the door for the ambulance as he came down the stairs with the dog and walked over to them. He leaned against the wall and rested his head back, closing his eyes. Adrenaline and rage now gone, he was not feeling well. His arm and his head were throbbing; a dull ache filled his torso. He was breathing slowly and deeply, trying to settle the rest of his body and stop the trembling. He still didn't feel right. "Are you all right, Bobby?" Benson asked, concerned.

He just nodded. He was calming slowly. He didn't want to think about what had just happened, what could have happened if it hadn't been for his partner. It frightened him. He'd never come so close to losing it.

Stabler noticed his empty holster. "Where's your piece?"

"Eames has it."

"Why?"

He opened his eyes slowly and looked at Stabler. "Because she had to take it."

Stabler's eyes narrowed. "You would have put a bullet in his head."

It wasn't a question. "I..I don't know. All I could see was those four little girls. Something... snapped, and the next thing I knew, Eames was taking my gun." His voice was low, the only way he could keep it from trembling.

Stabler nodded. "You know, it's ok, Goren. Feeling that way. Wanting to do it. I know what that's like; I feel the same way. The difference lies in keeping it inside, not acting on those desires. As long as you can keep yourself from stepping over that line, you're ok. But it's hard to be objective when you can see those little bodies in your mind every time you close your eyes."

"How do you sleep at night?"

"Sometimes, I don't. But we keep going because someone has to find justice for these kids. And we have to do it the right way, or no one gets justice."

Goren nodded. That he understood. He tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes again.

King walked over to Stabler and nosed his hand. Stabler squatted beside him and ruffled his fur. "I'm impressed with this dog. I questioned your judgment when you told us what you were going to do with him, but we'd still be spinning our wheels without him. Was he ever K-9?"

"No. But we took him undercover with us a few times. And we taught him some things." It still took a lot of effort to keep his voice from shaking.

"Like 'cops and robbers'?"

"Yeah."

Benson touched his arm. "You want to sit down, Bobby?"

He shook his head. "I'll just stay here and hold up this wall until Eames comes down."

They heard the sirens in the distance and listened as they came closer. The sounds of doors slamming followed, and several uniformed officers came through the doorway. Benson directed them upstairs then looked out the door. "The ambulance is here, and so is CSU."

Eames came down the stairs as the CSU techs came into the building. One of the techs looked at the four detectives. "You guys are keeping us hopping tonight."

Benson grinned and sent them up the stairs, along with the paramedics. Eames was watching her partner with worried eyes and he knew it. He said quietly, "I'm all right now, Eames."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"They'll take the suspect to the prison ward at Bellevue. We can interrogate him there, but probably not until tomorrow." She looked at Benson and Stabler. "We'll call you, so the four of us can go talk to him."

"That'll set him right at ease," Goren muttered, stepping away from the wall. He faltered a little and Eames grabbed his arm.

"Right now, we're taking you to the emergency room," she said.

"Vet first," he reminded her.

"Right. Come on, cowboy. The car's right outside." She looked over her shoulder at Benson as she followed him out the door, one hand on his uninjured arm, the other against the small of his back.

When they had gone, Stabler leaned against a crate and looked at his partner. "I was wrong about him, Liv."

"How so?"

"He put himself in the line of fire because I have kids. He wasn't even willing to put the dog in danger, and if it hadn't been for the dog, he might have been killed. He's not crazy, not the way people think."

She was glad to hear him say that. She had reached the same conclusion after watching him interact with little Charlie the night of the first killing. "Come on, Elliot. Let's get your shoulder looked at before IAB gets a hold of you. Goren will back you up on this shooting, won't he?"

"Yeah, he will."

He pushed off from the crate and followed his partner from the building.