AN: Your words are pretty effing cool - thanks guys. I don't own anyone.
She was staring blankly at her reflection in the two-way mirror when the door to the interrogation room opened. Olivia saw out of her peripheral vision Silverman reappearing casually as if he had only been gone sixteen minutes.
Not sixteen hours.
She looked over at him with a defeated look in her eyes. He'd beaten it out of her with his absence and she was officially done. She noticed he was wearing a different suit jacket, shirt and tie and his hair looked like it had been washed. A part of her wanted to go ape shit and beat the crap out of him for leaving her in here for so long but she knew that would only buy her another day without her freedom.
He stood by the door without coming too far into the room and just stared at her. She noticed he hadn't shut the door yet, just held the frame casually as if he were only popping in to check on her. She raised her eyebrows in question.
He cleared his throat.
"You're free to go."
"Olivia called you?" Elliot pressed in anger. "Why didn't you tell me?" He was fuming.
"I am telling you now," Cragen matched his heatedness, unimpressed with Elliot's attitude.
"When did she call? What did she say?" Elliot stepped further into the office.
"About an hour ago," Cragen said squeezing the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
"And?" Elliot pushed.
"All I heard was her tell me it was her," he informed him before dropping the bombshell. "Then the line went dead." Cragen was too tired to sugar coat the situation. He was just as worried about Olivia as Elliot was.
"What?" Elliot yelled. "Did she sound panicked? Was there background noise? Caller ID? Did you trace the call?" Elliot desperately shot out the questions.
"She sounded rushed, like she knew she didn't have much time. I heard someone try and stop her, I think the phone dropped on the ground and then I heard," Cragen paused unsure if he should continue.
Elliot urged him with a look.
"I heard what I think was muffled screaming," Cragen said quietly.
Elliot pulled out the chair opposite Cragen's desk and fell into it, his face resting in his hands as he tried to block out all the horrific images that were flooding his brain. "I assume she wasn't on the line long enough for a trace," he mumbled into his hands.
"The call lasted for approximately fifteen seconds, so no trace was possible. The number came up as private but we were able to confirm it was a government owned cell phone. That doesn't really narrow down our search considerably but it's promising that she hasn't left the country."
"Do you think there is a chance there is a connection between the government call and the Middle East?" Elliot questioned.
Cragen looked past Elliot to where Munch appeared at the door. Munch stuck his head into Cragen's office.
"Cap I got something."
"Did you hear me? You're free to go," Silverman repeated, motioning to the door he held open for her.
Her eyebrows came together and she folded her arms in front of her. "You leave me in here for sixteen hours just to tell me I'm free to go," she said through gritted teeth. She was ready to slug the son of a bitch. He had nothing to say to her, he just stood there and stared at her pathway to freedom. "We're not done yet," she said angrily. "You still need my answers and I need yours."
He was looking at her as if she were insane. "You've been held here against your will for close to fifty hours and you'renot done?"
She stormed up to him, grasped the doorframe and slammed it shut. "No I'm not," she said. "I needto know what's going on Agent Silverman."
He was watching her intently. She could see he was working to hide the small amount of empathy he had for her but knew at the end of the day it was his job to hide the facts.
Silverman moved forward and opened the door once more.
"Thank you for your time Detective Benson."
Olivia pushed open the doors to the federal building, expecting to be hit with daylight. It was dark out. Pitch black and the cold air hit her like a brick wall. There were a few cars on the road and a couple of cabs with their lights on but she had no money, no phone and no idea what she was going to do.
She was screwed. She knew her credit card details off by heart but she couldn't board a plane, hire a car or even a hotel room without ID. She didn't even have a quarter for the pay phone nor could she see one close by.
A man in a suit came out soon after her and she turned around with relief.
"Excuse me sir, can I please use your phone?" Olivia asked in a rush.
He took one look at her clothing, shook his head and kept walking.
She rubbed her face and tried to think of her options. If she found a pay phone she could reverse the charge to the precinct but she needed instant help, local help. As much as she didn't want to use it, she needed her wild card. She walked back into the federal building and headed towards the guard at the front desk. He had been no help to her earlier but she was going to try again.
"I know, I know," she said before he had a chance to refuse her again. "I understand your phone isn't available to the general public, but can you please just contact Agent Porter for me." Desperation lined her face.
The guard blinked a couple of times, considering her request.
"Please just tell him it's Olivia Benson."
"Olivia?" A voice from behind her caused her to jump. She turned around to see Porter standing there looking caught off guard by her presence and her attire. Her breath caught and relief flooded through her.
"Thank God," she said quietly and stepped towards him. "Porter, I need your help."
Porter led her away from the guard and over to the lobby couches for some privacy. "Are you ok? You look like hell." Porter noticed.
"I need your phone," she said, cutting to the chase.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"Please, can I just use your phone?" she pushed.
He just stared at her still in shock. She didn't have time for this, she moved forward and dug her hand into his pants pocket, pulling out his cell phone. He just watched her as she quickly dialed Cragen's number. She met his questioning eyes only briefly before turning around and walking out of hearing distance.
"Cragen, it's me," she said quickly.
"Jesus, Olivia. Are you ok? Where are you?" She could hear the panic in his voice.
They had been worried.
She bit into her lip, she didn't want to ask it but she had to know.
"Tell me Elliot's ok." She squeezed her eyes shut. A wave of silence passing over and she was desperately holding back the onset of tears.
"He's fine, he's right here," Cragen said quietly.
The relief flooded through her and she wobbled a little on her feet, feeling as if she were about to loose her balance.
He was right there.
Thank God.
"Where are you? What happened?" Cragen continued.
"D.C.," she told him quietly and she could sense the surprise on the other line. "Look it's a long story but I'm going to try and get back to the city tonight. It's just proving a little difficult with no money or credentials."
"Stay there, I'm sending a car, it will be with you as soon as possible, seven-eight hours tops."
She looked over at Porter who was still watching her intently. Another eight hours.
"What time is it?" She didn't even know.
"11:30pm."
She let out a sigh. She had waited fifty hours, what's another eight. "Thanks. I'll be in touch with the address." Maybe she could find a cheap motel that would accept her credit card number without ID.
"Wait, Liv if we need to contact you-"
She clicked the phone off. She didn't have a contact number, she didn't have a plan, she had nothing. She headed back to Porter and held out his phone not wanting to waste anymore of his time.
"Thanks," she said.
He took it from her and she started to walk away, heading towards the exit of the building and she could hear his footsteps behind her.
"Wait, where are you going?" he called out.
"I don't know," she spoke over her shoulder.
She pushed open the doors to the building forgetting just how cold it was outside. She could hear him coming after her and when he caught up he grasped her elbow softly, turning her around.
"It's freezing, do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked with concern.
"Yeah, to the city," she said with sarcasm.
"New York?" he asked in shock.
She let out a half laugh. "Didn't think so," she turned back around. "Thanks for the call."
"Where are you going to go with no money and no ID?" he called out.
She turned around and took the few steps back to him. "How did you-"
"I heard you on the phone."
She shivered a little against the cold, suddenly the interrogation room wasn't looking so bad. She watched him shake his jacket off and hand it to her. She brushed it off.
"I'm fine," she lied.
He considered her for a quick moment before he spoke. "Look my place is fifteen minutes away, do you need a place to stay tonight?" he asked her.
She laughed, shaking her head. "I don't need anything from you."
He grabbed her elbow again before she could get far. "Look, Olivia, I owe you. You can shower, sleep and I'll drive you to New York in the morning."
Her eyebrows rose at the absurdity. "New York is a nine hour round trip Porter, twelve in peak hour," she said it like he was insane for suggesting it. "Besides I already have a ride," she told him, pulling her arm out of his hold.
"When?" he asked.
She sighed and quickly did the math in her head.
"About 7am," she said quietly.
"And until then?" he said with concern.
She wasn't going home with him.
"I'll figure it out."
"I told you, I'm not hungry," she said as Porter slid the piping hot bowl of pasta in front of her. Her hair was dripping wet from the shower and she was sporting a pair of his sweatpants and a college t-shirt that hung off her.
"You look like you haven't eaten in months," he told her with concern.
A small part of her felt like a cop out because she had submitted once again. First to Silverman and now to Porter but just because she was in his house, using his shower, wearing his clothes and eating is food didn't mean she trusted him. She was simply choosing the lesser of two evils.
Porter versus the street.
She had called Cragen again, given him Porter's address and Cragen told her a car would pick her up at approximately 7am the next morning.
She hadn't called Elliot.
She picked up the fork and spiraled it in circles until it built up enough pasta, she then took the bite. It was mind blowing. She remembered Porter boasting that he was a great cook and in all fairness his fettuccine was delicious. She was careful to take it slow this time so she didn't make the same mistake she had with the burger. He watched her take the second bite and swipe the alfredo sauce from the corner of her mouth.
"Good?" he asked.
She nodded. It was on par with the shower she had. She was so happy to finally wash away fifty hours of grime, dirt and BO. He'd even given her a fresh toothbrush with normal toothpaste and she had sprayed herself with his deodorant.
She felt human again.
"So can I ask you what you were doing in my building at that hour, dressed like a homeless woman?" he asked with a small smile.
She didn't see the humor. The last thing she felt like doing was talking about the ordeal but she was curious as to how much Porter knew.
"Did Silverman talk to you?" she said casually. She twisted the fork collecting more pasta and watched as Porter's confusion became evident.
"Silverman?" he questioned.
It appeared as if Porter was oblivious but he had a knack for swimming in BS so she decided to leave it at that. She wasn't going to offer up any details on the matter and slandering Silverman and the very organization that Porter worked for would get her nowhere. She finished another mouthful before she put her fork down.
"I'm really tired Porter, thanks for the pasta but I'm going to get some sleep."
"Liv," she heard his voice and felt a hand on her upper arm attempting to pull her from her slumber.
Where was she? Was she in the crib? Was that Elliot?
"Liv," he tried again.
"El?" she said sleepily and rolled over. Porter was standing next to the bed and she pulled herself back into consciousness.
"Oh, hey," she said groggily sitting up on her elbows. She felt like she'd been drugged she was so out of it. "What time is it?"
It was all coming back to her now, Porter had let her sleep in his bed. She'd been adamant about taking the couch but he insisted otherwise and she was too exhausted to push it.
"It's just after seven, your ride is downstairs," he told her and she sprung into action.
She looked around as if to collect her stuff and realized she didn't have anything with her. She glanced down at the clothes she was still wearing.
"Keep them, you're fine," he told her.
"Thanks Porter, I'll see you," she told him and with that she walked out of his bedroom and back to reality.
An officer had picked her up and they were in the city by midday.
She had the option to go home first but she elected to go straight to the precinct. She headed to the locker room and grabbed the spare change of clothes she always kept handy. She threw on a pair of jeans, a sweater and shoes and headed out to the bullpen.
She saw Munch at his desk and Cragen in his office but she realized with disappointment that Elliot was nowhere to be seen.
"Liv." Munch rose from his desk when he saw her enter. "You ok?" he asked with concern.
"I'm fine John," she gave him a weak smile before opening the door to Cragen's office. When Cragen saw her he hung up the phone call he was on and stood up.
She wanted to ask about Elliot, she needed proof that he was ok. Maybe it was all just a dream that he was ok, maybe Cragen had lied to her.
Where was he?
"Thank God," he said with a sigh of relief. "You ok?"
"I'm fine," she repeated. I'm finemight as well be her voicemail message. She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of Elliot's desk in the vague hope that he'd suddenly appeared. She turned back to Cragen and opened her mouth to ask before closing it again.
"He's out on a case with Fin," Cragen answered the looming question.
She nodded, a little confused.
"Our case?" she said referring to Sin. She was determined to sink her teeth back into it now that she knew the potential gravity and she wanted answers.
"A child abduction case, it came in last night," Cragen confirmed.
She scratched her temple. She was confused as to why Cragen would pull Elliot and Fin off such a high profile case.
"Well I've got a lot of light to shed on this shit storm and I need your help. Special Agent Lucas Silverman is responsible for my prolonged absence. You won't believe the hell he put me through. This extends a lot further than we thought, the deaths at Sin were just the tip of the iceberg, it's global, it appears that Sin is a trafficking portal for overseas sex workers-"
"Olivia," Cragen cut her off. "We're off the case."
Her eyebrows rose. "I'm sorry?"
"I got the call last night. It's federal, it's out of our hands."
"No," she said shaking her head, refusing to believe it.
"Olivia you know the drill, there is nothing we can do, end of story," he pushed.
She was fuming. "I've put my life on the line for weeks and you're telling me that's it," she exclaimed. When Cragen didn't continue, she did. "Silverman is running a corrupt horse and pony show, it's BS. I was on the inside, you have no idea what I've been through and what I've seen, I have so much to offer-"
"Olivia," Cragen cut her off again. "I'm not fighting you on this. We are allofficially off the case, I don't want to hear another word about it. What's more I think this is an opportune time for you to take some much needed vacation time-"
"-Don't," she cut him off.
"Two weeks mandatory leave, no discussion," he pressed. "You said it yourself, you've been through hell. Maybe you should consider getting out of the city for a while."
She lent forward in her chair clasping her hands together. "Please don't do this." She was begging him now.
"It's done Olivia," he told her. "You've got a debriefing with Haung at 2:30 and then I want you out of here."
Jesus, this was getting worse by the minute. There was no way she was seeing Haung nor would she drop the case. She had come too far. She knew she was getting nowhere with this conversation so she stood up and headed to the door.
"Oh and I'm partnering Elliot and Fin together," Cragen stopped her with his words.
Her hand stilled on the door handle and she spoke into the door. "Temporarily," she confirmed. A moment of silence passed and Olivia finally turned around. She caught Cragen's eyes and just knew. "You're kidding me," she whispered.
She felt it then, the walls of her world crumbling. It was official this case had ripped her into shreds.
"It's a restructure. As you know Munch is retiring at the end of the month and Detective Bennett is transferring in a couple of weeks from Brooklyn, I think you two will work well together."
"I already work well with my own partner," she defended.
"It's not negotiable Olivia," he dismissed her.
This had to be about Sin. He wondered how much Cragen knew. How much had Elliot told him?
Restructure my ass.
"What are you doing to me?" she whispered. Was this some kind of test to see how much she could take before she broke?
Cragen opened his mouth to say something but seemed as if he'd thought better of it. She slunk back against the door, her expression completely deflated.
"Look Olivia, you've been through the ringer, I'm not doing this to piss you off, I'm doing it because I worry about you. I suggest you take this time to get some grounding and stability in your life."
She heard his words but hadn't registered them. Her mind was a blur. She caught movement outside Cragen's office and she was done listening to Cragen's excuses. She opened the door and left before Cragen could say another word. She saw Fin, heading towards his desk dropping his coat.
Fin caught her eye and did a double take. "Liv," he stalked over to her and pulled her into an unexpected side hug, she let him hold for a few moments before he pulled back after a few pats on the back.
She was pleasantly surprised at the physical compassion.
"Hey," she began, looking around expecting Elliot to be close behind.
"He's still out," Fin informed her. "Canvassing."
She nodded. She hadn't called him last night when she had access to a phone and he wasn't present for her return. Suddenly she felt stupid for worrying about him when it appeared it hadn't been reciprocated.
"Do you want me to-"
"No thanks, I'm going to head off," Olivia cut him off. She wasn't sure what Fin was going to suggest but it hit her suddenly that the precinct was the last place she wanted to be.
He stood outside her apartment door.
He had been sitting in his car for twenty minutes before he worked up the nerve to knock on her door. He still couldn't do it. His heart was thumping a mile and he felt ridiculously childish. It was still Olivia, the same woman he'd worked along side for more than a decade. Only it was different now.
He'd touched her, kissed her, felt her body responding to his and there was no going back.
He was there to see if she was okay, he had heard she'd been back to the precinct that morning but they hadn't crossed paths. It was either check in on her now, or wait the two weeks until she returned. He couldn't wait two weeks. The two days she was missing was long enough.
Had he had just run into her at the precinct, it would have been a lot easier. There was something about coming to her house after hours that made him feel as if he were crossing a line. They'd already crossed several but if the intention was to inject some normalcy back into their relationship this was not the way to do it.
It was too late. He had to see if she were okay especially given the outcome that she was faced with today. She lost her case, her partner and temporarily her job, all in one swoop. He had absolutely no idea what reception he would receive from her. He held his breath and knocked on the door. Three solid knocks. A few beats passed and he felt nauseous.
He heard the small footsteps, a slight pause as he assumed she must be looking through the peephole and then after a few moments of hesitation the door opened. She was standing there dressed in jeans and a white cotton v-neck t-shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and her cheeks were slightly flushed.
She looked beautiful. He wondered if he'd ever be able to look at her as just his partner again. Or if he ever had.
He'd hugged her when she'd saved his wife and child's life, he hugged her after Sonya's death and God knows he wanted to hug her now. In the days that she was missing, he told himself that once she returned he would pull her into an embrace and tell her all the things he never could. Only now that he was faced with the situation it was different, it was reality and he just couldn't.
"Hey," he said softly.
She looked a little taken aback, as if he had caught her in the middle of something. She looked behind her and then back to him, perhaps assessing the mess he wondered. She didn't respond in words she simply opened the door a little wider and stood to the side motioning for him to come in.
He hesitated only briefly before he walked through the threshold. He saw her laptop set up on the coffee table and papers and books scattered around the screen. He caught the wine glass that housed a small amount of red and he attributed that to the flush in her cheeks. His eyes wandered back to hers and she was watching him with a strange look he couldn't place.
"Any breaks in the abduction case?" she asked.
He bit into his lip. He didn't want to talk about his case, he wasn't there to talk about work. He shook his head in response.
"What's the background? Maybe I can help," she started.
He knew the two weeks would be killing her already and that she was only asking for details so she could distract herself with what she knew best.
"Liv," he began and his tone must have sounded like a warning because he registered the shift in her demeanor.
Strike one.
He wanted to tell her that he wasn't here to talk about his case and he didn't want her thinking about it. He wanted to ask her if she was okay. He wanted to ask her if they had hurt her. He wanted to know the details as to what she had been through and the toll it had taken on her. He wanted to apologize for how far he let things get and for hurting her when they were undercover.
He wanted to ask her if she had dinner and when the last time she had eaten was because he could see she'd lost weight. He wanted to tell her that she should use these two weeks to rest and recuperate and reassess her life decisions and the danger she seems intent on putting herself in. He wanted to tell her that he hadn't stopped thinking about her since and it was taking all the restraint in the world not to grab her right now and pull her into an unforgiving embrace. He wanted to say all of these things but instead he continued to stare blankly.
She broke the silence.
"What did you tell Cragen?" she asked him and the accusation sat heavy in her words. She was referring to the fact that they were no longer partners and he was in the firing line of blame. He could feel his defenses starting to flare.
"Nothing."
She looked him dead in the eyes and he wondered how she could do that with such ease when he had trouble maintaining eye contact the moment he'd entered her apartment.
"You must have said something," she pushed not buying it.
He was trying desperately not to screw this up. He didn't want to fight with her so he needed to choose his words carefully. But she needed to know.
"He saw the footage," he told her quietly.
Her eyes widened and a few beats passed before she broke the eye contact and ran a hand over her face.
"Oh my God," her words were muffled by her hand, she look mortified. He watched as she wrestled with the humiliation and the reasoning that had registered. "And you let him?" she said stunned.
Like he had a choice.
He felt the anger start to pulsate through his body at the blame she was insistent on throwing his way. He tried to will the heat back down.
"I had no choice, you were missing. It was the only lead we had," Elliot explained.
It took her a few moments to pull herself together. "So what did you find?"
This would fall under the category of discussing a case that Cragen deemed officially off limits.
"Liv," he began again, the same warning as before and he could see he was losing her by the second but this had to be said. "We're off the case," he reminded her.
Strike two.
Her eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Then what does it matter, just tell me what you found." He picked up on the desperation in her voice and as his eyes travelled over to the laptop it all fell into place. Shewasn't off the case.
"Is this your idea of rest and recuperation?" he said with disapproval.
She was starting to get agitated and he knew if he pushed her too far she'd kick him out and he wasn't ready to leave. He was about to soften the situation when she surprized him by dropping the hostility.
"Please Elliot, just tell me what you know," she spoke softly and her eyes were searching his for any hope that he'd comply.
He sighed, looking away, knowing he would have to give her something. Figuring the information he was about to provide could be accessed in their closed case file he began. "The men who swarmed the room were of Middle Eastern descent, Iranian was the closest match," he said quietly.
She stared blankly at him as if she expected him to continue. He was hoping that would have been enough to tide her over but he should have known better.
"Liv-" he began again and she took a step forward cutting him off.
"And?"
He had her undivided attention and he could tell she needed to hear more. He looked over at the paperwork on her coffee table and wondered what she intended to do with the information he was providing her.
"There is nothing you can do," he told her definitively. "It's out of our hands."
"I know," she agreed. Her voice was soft and had a weakness about it that he rarely saw.
"I just need to know," she confirmed. He was searching her eyes trying to determine whether she was playing him or if she really just wanted peace out of this. He weakened under her gaze and their new closer proximity.
"The SA80 assault rifles they were carrying led us to believe the gunmen could be soldiers of the war in Iraq."
He watched her take in the information he had given her and could see her calculating it. Repeating it in her mind because launching for a note pad at this point would be too obvious. He couldn't be angry at himself for giving in to her because the truth was he already knew.
"Promise me you're going to…" his words faded into nothing as he realized it was pointless even asking her.
"What else El?" she whispered and her voice was unbearably breathy.
Fuck me.
He turned away from her then, trying desperately to get his mind out of the gutter. He could stop her right there and tell her that was everything they knew but she could read him like a book and would know he was holding out on her.
"Munch reviewed the footage from the other 39 rooms at the approximate time you were taken," he told her. He was treading in dangerous waters here. Not only were they discussing details of a confidential federal case but Cragen had given him strict instructions not to discuss work with Olivia.
"And?" she whispered in anticipation.
"The other women at Sin weren't taken by the gunmen who took you, they were cleared out by the FBI, we assumed to be interviewed as witnesses."
Olivia nodded as if things were now falling into place and correlated with her experience.
"Except for another woman in room 23, she was swarmed by the same four middle eastern gunmen that took you, just five minutes prior."
Her eyebrows rose and she let out the breath she was holding. She looked confused and upset. "What does that mean?" she asked quietly as if she expected him to know the answer.
"It doesn't matter, there is nothing you can do," he reminded her.
"Why us?" she pushed.
He was losing her and he needed a focus, a distraction, something to change the course of their conversation because he needed her to drop this. He could handle a pissed off Olivia so he needed to get personal.
"When was the last time you ate something?" he asked point blank.
She furrowed her eyebrows as if she was confused by the question.
"Have you had dinner?" he asked.
"I'm not hungry," she answered defensively.
He shook his head and reached for the phone that was sitting on her counter. "I'll order Chinese," he told her decisively.
She moved then, her hand grasping the phone, covering his. He pulled it from her hold and held it away from her, behind his back.
Without an ounce of hesitation she closed the distance between them and reached for it. Suddenly he could smell her shampoo and feel the heat from her body as she got so close in an attempt to seize the phone. He felt her breasts push up against his chest as she reached around his back to grasp the phone. He felt lightheaded and let her slip it out of his hold just so he could breathe again. She recreated the distance she had taken and tossed the phone on the counter.
"I told you I'm not hungry," she said in annoyance. "So if you're done prying Elliot, you can go."
Strike three. He wasn't done.
Her lower back was propped up against the kitchen counter and he took the two steps forward that closed the distance between them. He felt her breath quicken at his sudden presence. His eyes searched hers as he debated his choice of words.
In the past couple of years she had become more and more self destructive, putting her job, the victims, the cases and his life all before her needs damning the consequences.
The risk she put herself in had amplified severely. Sealview, Gillette, Rojas, Brady Harrison. The boundaries she crossed only heightened, she had gone from kissing Dale Stuckey to parading around half naked in front of Bushido and now Sin. She used her body as a weapon, she was limitless and it was only escalating.
Fuck me.
She wasn't invincible and there was only so far she could push it until her number came up. Now he was shit scared she was going to do something with this new information he'd provided her.
Olivia broke the eye contact, her eye line dropping to the kitchen tiles and that somehow made it easier.
"When will it be enough?" he whispered to the side of her face. How many more cases would she put herself on the line for until she realizes there is more to life?
Her eyes registered his comment but she didn't react. A few beats passed between them as he debated whether or not to push it. He heard the vibration of her phone from the coffee table and it pulled her out of her daze. She looked over at her phone as if she knew who it was but didn't want to make it obvious.
"I should get that," she told him pushing herself off the counter and heading towards the coffee table. "I'll see you in a couple of weeks ok," she told him as she picked up the phone. He didn't make any movements to leave.
"Benson." Her eyes darted to his briefly before she made her way to her bedroom for privacy.
He didn't want to leave, he hadn't said half the things he had come to say to her but in all honesty he didn't think he would have the guts to, even if she gave him the time of day. He waited a few moments, he could hear the muffled conversation from her bedroom. His eyes wandered back to the computer and curiosity got the better of him.
He sat down on the couch and took in the contents. Scattered paper with notes jotted down, two books titled Modern Slaveryand Human Trafficking. He tapped the mouse pad and the screensaver disappeared revealing the flight itinerary. He scrolled down the page and read the details.
American Airlines - Flight 4416 - New York to Washington D.C. - 06:30am
She was flying to D.C. tomorrow morning.
He looked over his shoulder to check she wasn't wrapping up her phone call and when the coast seemed to be clear he clicked on the other open pages on her browser. The first was an online biography of an FBI Agent named Lucas Silverman, another was a hotel confirmation for The Best Western Georgetown Hotel & Suites. It was for 3 nights.
The last page was her personal email account. He saw the most recent email was from Dean Porter. His jaw clicked and a few beats passed as he debated whether or not he was going to click on it. The subject title told him nothing.
Fw: Hi
He would have to click on it if he wanted details. He knew it was wrong but he had gone this far, what was another breach of privacy at this point.
Olivia, it was great seeing you despite the circumstances. If you need a lift from the airport let me know and the offer to stay at mine again is there. Dean.
He felt the anger pulsating through his body. The email had been a response to hers so he scrolled down to quickly see what she had written to him.
Dean, thanks again. I am flying back to D.C. tomorrow for work. If you have some time to spare I could really use your help on a case. Let me know, Olivia.
He clicked it back to the flight itinerary and stood up. He was livid. She had slept at Porter's last night and now she was flying back there for what - round two? After everything that prick had done to them he couldn't believe she was still seeing him after all the lies and betrayal. The man used bureaucratic BS to get away with bugging their phones, covering up a murder, and taking a shot that could have ended Olivia's life. And now suddenly all was forgiven?
He had three options. One, he could call her on it, confront her and tell her he'd be speaking to Cragen. Two, he could leave without a word and let her live her own life and make her own mistakes. Or three, he could follow her to D.C.
His thoughts lingered on the options and as he heard her wrapping up the phone call his decision was made. He moved towards the door and quietly made his exit, clicking the door shut behind him and leaving her in peace.
She had arranged to meet Porter for coffee at a cafe in between her hotel and his building. As they sipped on their takeaway cups she got a sense of déjà vu from her undercover days when he was her case agent and they met to exchange information. That felt like a lifetime ago now.
She had struggled over how she was going to play this and just what she needed to say and do to get information from Porter without him suspecting she was out of her jurisdiction. After a minimal amount of small talk she cut to the chase.
"What do you know about Agent Silverman?" Olivia questioned.
She saw Porter registering her question and a smile tugged at his lips. "Why, you looking to be set up?" he joked.
She returned the smile. "I'm working a case I could really use his expertise on, I know he's dabbled in sex crimes and he could really shed some light," she fed him the line of BS. She watched as he considered her, his eyes searching her face for what she assumed was legitimacy.
"What's the case?" Porter questioned, she sensed his skepticism.
"It's sensitive," Olivia confirmed.
Porter furrowed his brow at the roadblock she had given him and she changed courses.
"Are you acquaintances? Friends?" she pushed.
"We rarely cross paths," Porter confirmed, a hint for her to drop it but she wasn't going to give up that easy.
"I don't want to bother him at work and thought you might-"
"Does Cragen know you're here?" Porter put on the breaks.
Her eyebrows rose and she expelled the breath she was holding. "Yes," she said defensively. "Look, the leads are dry and Silverman is our only shot."
"Why not have Cragen contact the FBI powers that be," Porter questioned.
She was quick to act. "We don't have time to climb the chain of command," she said getting impatient. "Please Porter, I wouldn't ask if-"
"The Old Dominion Brewhouse," he cut her off and Olivia waited for an explanation. "It's a pub he frequents most nights after work," he explains. "Just head up 9th street it's about 8 blocks from J Edger," he told her quietly.
"Thank you," she said with a small smile, trying to hide the satisfaction. "I owe you one," she said as she got up and slipped her coat on.
"I know you do," Porter said with an overconfident smile. "Dinner tomorrow, you're buying."
As she straightened up her coat she raised her eyebrows at his boldness. "I don't think so," she said with a half laugh, picking up her empty coffee cup.
"Seriously?" he looked shocked.
The guy had been a prick to her in the past and she didn't trust him however she didn't want to rock the boat.
"We'll see," she said with a small smile.
He then watched as she tossed her cup into the trash and made her way out of the café.
She got a cab from her hotel room to The Old Dominion Brewhouse on 9th street. The bar was nothing special. She was sure the streets around his building were peppered with places like this but perhaps that was part of the charm, that it was his regular because it was away from his work.
She spotted Silverman immediately, he was perched on a bar stool with a beer in one hand and a side of deep fried onion rings that he'd barely touched to his left. His attention was drawn to the TV screen that was blinking images of a basketball game.
She continued further down the bar and stood next to a group of patrons so they'd block her from Silverman's view and she quietly ordered a beer.
The bar tender's eyes dipped to her cleavage. She had wrestled over her choice of attire. Silverman had struck her as a chauvinistic pig in the interrogation room but she had seen glimpses of a softer side. A dress would have been too obvious, he was a smart guy and he'd most likely see through her intentions so she went for jeans, a token leather jacket and as a subtle teaser, a low cut top. It had worked on the bar tender.
She paid for the beer and took it over to a booth that was partially hidden in the corner of the room. That way she figured she could observe him for a short while until she decided it was time to approach. She didn't want him sober, but she didn't want him drunk so she was going to wait for that happy medium.
In the hour that had passed he'd gone to the bathroom, ordered a second side of deep fried onion rings and was half way through his third beer since she arrived. It was time. She stood up and made her way over to the bar and sat a few stools away from him.
"Can I get another Budweiser please?" she said to the bar tender.
She felt Silverman's eyes on her immediately and she pretended not to notice. The bar tender slid the fresh bottle of beer in front of her and gave her the change from her ten. She took a seat on the stool and took a sip. She looked up at the TV screen and pretended to be interested in the game.
"Number 39." Silverman's voice caused her to register and she turned to make eye contact with him. She gave him a look of surprise as if she were caught off guard by his presence.
"Agent Silverman," she responded in a less than pleased tone and shook her head, making it clear she was pissed off at the encounter and that he was the last person she wanted to see.
She got up then and walked away, taking her beer to a booth that purposely remained in his eye line. She perched herself there, and waited. It was a risk, a long shot that he would even give two shits over their brief encounter but she had to be subtle about this or he'd see right through her.
She saw out of her peripheral vision that he had drained the third beer and had ordered another. Once the bar tender slid the bottle in front of him he picked it up and made his way over to her. She looked up at him and rolled her eyes in disapproval. He didn't ask for the invitation, he just took it, taking the seat across the booth from her. He took a large sip from his beer before he spoke.
"What are you doing here?" he asked her with a hint of suspicion and intrigue.
"Enjoying a quiet beer by myself," she said with sarcasm.
He scoffed but didn't take the hint. "Why aren't you back in the city detective?" he questioned. She heard the subtle slur in his voice, proud that she had hit the nail on the head.
"Listen, I didn't ask for company-" she spoke, pretending to be annoyed.
"Do you realize how lucky you are?" he cut her off. It hadn't taken long for him to bring it up and she was shocked. She paused and waited for him to continue, she didn't want to mess this up.
"You have no idea…" his words trailed off as did his eye contact and she watched as he looked strangely sad.
When he didn't continue she spoke.
"Tell me," she said quietly.
His eyes flicked back to hers and he could sense he was starting to twig already. Son of a bitch, she had acted too keen, she should have just let him talk in his own time.
He just shook his head and went back to his beer. "Forget it," Silverman mumbled.
She needed to change the subject and now. "How were the onion rings?" she asked him casually.
He looked caught off guard by the question but then answered her. "Dry," he confirmed.
She nodded with a small smile. He was giving her a strange look, like he wasn't sure how to take her shift in the conversation.
"I'm not a bad guy you know," he said suddenly.
Her eyebrows rose. A statement she wasn't prepared for and wasn't sure how to respond to. "Okay," she said.
"It's the job, you know that right," he asked her as if he needed the validation. "Coming onto you, it was a tactic-"
"You don't need to explain yourself to me," she spoke, shrugging him off.
"I have a daughter detective," he said with a sense of pride. "I would never..." his words trailed off.
Her eyes wondered to his bare ring finger and wondered how the mother of his daughter fit into the picture. He caught her looking at his hand.
"Divorced. She lives with her mother." He answered the question she didn't ask.
Olivia nodded.
"Do you have children Detective Benson?" he asked and she was impressed he had remembered her name.
She shook her head. "No, no I don't," she tried to sound nonchalant but failed.
After a few moments of silence he spoke. "That's probably for the best," he concluded taking another large sip from his beer and she tried not to take it personally. "Putting yourself at such risk and all," he cleared up. She didn't say anything, it was a touchy subject. "Anyway," he seemed to pull himself together. "I'm sorry for giving you a hard time."
She watched him carefully. "Did you find what you were looking for?" She had said it as casually as she could and hoped he wouldn't read into the question.
He shook his head and looked away. She could see it then, the emotion that he was so desperately trying to conceal. All of a sudden he looked like he was in pure anguish. He rubbed his face and rested his head in his hands and looked as if he were about to cry. She wondered if she had miscalculated the amount of beers he had consumed prior to her arrival.
A few moments passed. "You ok?" she was concerned.
He was taking this personally. Too personally. She thought of the woman, the woman in room 23 and suddenly it dawned on her and everything fell into place. All the resources the FBI were pulling, all the manpower leading up to that day, the sheer gravity of the situation, the hell they put her through. It wasn't to save a group of sex workers.
The woman in room twenty three was an undercover agent.
It was a hunch, a big one, but she was taking it. She reached across the table and placed a hand over his forearm. "She's your partner isn't she," she said it without another thought.
He dropped his hands slowly and she let her hand continue to rest on top of his.
"What are you.. who?" he spoke, looking at her dumbfounded. For a moment she thought she may have it wrong but pushed on with her theory.
"Two men took me in the wagon, but you said there were four men in total. The other two took your partner…"
"Where are you getting this?" His voice rose in volume and he moved his hands abruptly out from underneath hers.
Time to back track.
"I'm sorry," she recoiled. "It was just a hunch, I apologize if I'm off the mark." She picked up the beer in front of her and took a sip. She watched as he attempted to calm himself down, his face was slightly flushed and he was chewing on his bottom lip. She was trying to brainstorm some more small talk to take his mind off the matter when all of a sudden he started talking.
"They had split you into two wagons, we were tracking you both but we lost the second somewhere around Delran, New Jersey. They must have been onto us and diverted their route. Yours continued on track to Philadelphia airport," he spoke quietly.
He hadn't looked at her once. Her mind ticked over and she remained quiet, hoping that if she didn't say anything he would continue without her having to press the matter. She watched as he took another draw of his beer and sat back in his seat. He finally made eye contact with her again.
She wanted to ask him, why her.Why his partner. She wanted to ask him where they were going from Philadelphia. She wanted to ask if he had any leads. She wanted to ask what Sin's involvement was. She wanted to ask a billion and one questions but she couldn't rock the boat.
She tried for a different approach.
"Are you and your partner close?" she questioned, being sure to use present tense.
He broke eye contact with her then and she knew. She knew that look and didn't need him to answer. "Twelve years Detective Benson," he started. "What do you think?"
Twelve years. A familiar pang hit her in the gut.
"I managed to keep my hands off her for eight," he recalled with a small smile.
She fled to Oregon after eight..
"I don't know how I did that," he whispered.
She cleared her throat, they were getting off course. She took a large swig of her beer and noticed his near empty bottle. "You want another? On me," she offered.
He looked genuinely grateful at the thought but shook his head. "No thanks, I think I've had enough," he concluded.
"So what about you?" he asked her slowly.
She looked down at her beer. "Still going," she informed him with a quiet smile, raising the bottle for effect.
"No I mean, what about your partner?" he confirmed.
She fiddled with the beer bottle in front of her and averted her eyes. She didn't want to talk about Elliot, not with a complete stranger, but he had opened up to her and she felt as if she owed him something.
"We're close," she admitted.
As soon as she said the words she realized it was a lie. They weren't close, not anymore. They barely spoke or strung more than two sentences together. They used to be close. She almost felt as if she should correct herself.
"How long?" he asked her.
"How long what?" she was confused by the question and took a swig of her beer.
"How long have you been sleeping together?"
She nearly choked on the liquid. "Silverman, I.. we aren't sleeping together," she said, expelling a breath.
He gave her a look as if he didn't buy it.
"He's married," she reiterated.
Another lie. His ring finger had been bare for a few months now but he hadn't talked about it so who really knew at that point. She couldn't keep track.
Silverman shrugged. "So was Grace," he said with a sad smile. "A marriage can't outlast a partnership." The words hit her hard.
"Well it's not like that with my partner," she confirmed. Another pang of guilt.
He watched her carefully, still not buying it. "That's not what Porter says," Silverman told her with a shrug.
Her eyebrows rose and her mind started to swarm. Porter and Silverman had been talking. She tried to remain calm. "Oh yeah.. and you and Porter are close?" Suddenly she didn't want to hear the answer.
"Yeah, we've known each other for years. We went to college together and met up later at the academy."
Rarely cross paths my ass.
She nodded. "So you called him then?" She tried to sound relaxed. "To check out my story." Her heart was thumping a mile at how close these two were and just how much information they had shared.
He nodded, picking at the corner of the label on his beer. "Yeah, your story checked out. It's funny," he laughed as if he were recalling a memory. "He had told me about this hot New York City detective he had a thing for. I just didn't put it together at the time that it was you."
She was livid. Porter knew the whole time. Running into her in the lobby that night had been no coincidence. He'd known she was there, held for hours upon end and he didn't do a damn thing about it. He just swooped in at the last minute to play hero.
"Anyway so he mentioned something about your partner keeping you on a short leash and that was that." He shrugged.
Her jaw clicked and she did her best not to retaliate. She couldn't blow this because of a personal jab from a prick like Porter. She needed to get back on course, she had come this far. "Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot earlier, but I can help you," she said slowly.
His eyebrows rose and he ripped the label of the beer clean off. "Oh yeah and how exactly do you think you can help me?" He scoffed.
She picked up on the skepticism and realized this may not have been the best avenue. She wished he had taken her up on that last beer. "I can help you find her," she said quietly, maintaining eye contact so he'd see she was serious.
He slammed a fist down on the table and she jumped slightly. Their beer bottles rattled under the blow and a few heads turned in their direction. She didn't take her eyes off Silverman. "You can't do shit detective," he said nearly choking on the anger.
She felt her cheeks flush with nerves and her palms start to perspire. "I've had a bitof experience in the field Silverman," she emphasized with sarcasm.
"Rape victims are one thing detective, but once my partner was smuggled through the boarders of Iran, I might as well have blown my brains out because I have no hope in hell finding her." His outburst was loud and unforgiving.
Iran. A few more blocks fell into place. The Middle Eastern connection. He was right, she was out of her league to a point but sex crimes were universal. She still had a lot to offer.
"Iran," she repeated and she tried not to look too concerned.
"That's right detective, Iran. One of the few countries in the world that refuse to comply with even the minimal standards for eliminating trafficking. The lack of access our U.S. Government officials have prohibits the collection of data on the country's current human trafficking problem. To this date we have no solid evidence that Iran's government even have active law enforcement against it so you realize Detective Benson that had we not intervened when we had, you would have had a haystacks chance of getting found."
He broke the eye contact. "Just like my partner," he finished off in a whisper.
Her mind was reeling, she felt the bile build up the back of her throat and sucked in a breath.
"You still think you can help now detective?" he said shaking his head.
"Give me a chance Silverman, we can work this together-" she started.
"I suggest you go back to the city, deal with your small town cases and thank your lucky stars that you still can," he finished off in a yell. He stood up then suddenly and stormed away, making a beeline for the door.
She sat back against the booth and let out the breath she was holding. She hesitated only briefly as she analyzed her options. She made her decision and followed him out of the bar. She found him in the parking lot, he was trying to insert the key into the lock of his car and she came up behind him.
"Do you really think you should be driving?" she said with distress. She could see her breath against the night air it was so cold.
"Jesus Benson, you're a glutton for punishment," he spoke shaking his head. He finally managed to open the door. She moved forward and pushed it closed again. He wobbled a little on his feet and tried to steady himself against the door.
"Give me your keys," she directed. "I'll drive you home."
He laughed at the thought and tried to open the door again but she was leaning on it. "I don't need your help," he said, still attempting to open the door despite her body weight.
She reached then for the keys and easily grabbed them from his hand. He sighed and leant up against the car door, closing his eyes.
"Get in," she said softly.
"No," he refused.
"Get in," she repeated.
He managed to push himself off the car door and moved around the passenger side. She unlocked the car and got into the drivers seat. Silverman gave her his address and aside from loose directions to his house they drove in silence.
As they pulled up to a set of traffic lights the silence was deafening. She didn't know whether she should fill the silence with small talk or just let it be.
"You're a lot like her you know," he said out of the blue. "Assertive, brash, no-nonsense, confrontational… hot."
She smiled to herself still looking ahead.
"She also had a streak of stupidity," he sighed into the silence.
The lights went green and she continued on, trying not to take offence.
"I didn't want her going under on this one, I knew the stakes were too high, but she's nothing if not stubborn," he told her.
"Why your partner?" she asked carefully. "Why me?"
"Iran predominantly traffic women from Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan, Eastern Europe, China Bangladesh, Russia. They're a dime a dozen. There's an emerging trend for high-class American sex workers and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out you two were the pick of the bunch."
"And Sin's involvement?" she treaded carefully knowing that at any moment he could put a stop on the free information flow.
"Sin is an underground gentleman's club, you can't find it on google maps and it's caliber of women is unparalleled. But it exists to serve a higher purpose, the corrupt management harvest women and supply their international contacts with headshots and footage of the women. The selection is then made, as is the trade. As I'm sure you're aware it's a lot easier for sex workers to fall off the map than ordinary American citizens," he spoke with sadness.
"What about the women who were killed?" she asked as they came up to another stoplight.
"We believe they knew too much, Sin couldn't risk them going to the authorities," Silverman confirmed.
"Do you have any leads?" she asked.
She was keeping the questions flowing, she was on a roll.
"No," he said quietly. "From Philadelphia airport we believe they had transportation chartered to deliver you and my partner to Ukraine," he told her.
"I thought you said Iran." She was confused.
"Ukraine acts as the transit country that traffics women to numerous locations, from there you were set to be shipped to Iran," he spoke. His tone was becoming more and more deflated and she felt a surge of guilt at how much information she had extracted.
"Why are you telling me all of this?" she whispered.
He didn't answer her and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She knew something was wrong, she didn't have a good feeling about this.
"Left at the lights," he said quietly.
She pulled up into the driveway he indicated and shut off the engine. She didn't make any sudden motions to move, she was waiting for him. He clicked off his seat belt but didn't get out of the car. She tried to control her breathing and waited him out.
A few beats passed and he opened the passenger door and got out of the car. She followed his lead by clicking off her seat belt and opening her door. As she exited the car, he was right there practically caging her. Her defenses flared but she didn't feel as if she were in danger, just uncomfortable.
"Silverman-" she began but he cut her off.
"Go home Olivia," he said quietly. The surprise that he remembered her first name broke across her face. She wondered how much more he knew about her.
"Go home and tell your partner how you feel," he said with a penetrating gaze. "Before it's too late," he whispered. His words made her unsteady on her feet and she felt a severe amount of empathy for him. She didn't respond, she simply dug her hand into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out one of her cards.
"Please, just think about it," she told him and held out her business card. He looked at her hands but reached instead for the other containing his keys.
"Good night detective," he said softly.
With that he walked away from her leaving her standing in his drive way with a feeling of unexpected emptiness.
Olivia lay on the moderately uncomfortable hotel bed and stared up at the ceiling.
She got the answers she had come for but felt more unfulfilled than when she first arrived. The deflation and helplessness over the lack of power she had to intervene was overwhelming. She realized this venture had been nothing but a selfish quest for her own answers. The worst of it was, there was something about Silverman's eyes and tone of voice that made her believe he had given up on his partner.
Elliot wouldn't have..
She knew she should be grateful that that her wagon had been stopped but it just left her feeling guilty and somewhat responsible. Her life had been spared - and for what? She had no family, few friends and little purpose. After her routine in the interview room and her performance tonight she bet Silverman looked at her with an overwhelming sense of regret. He'd saved the wrong wagon.
She'd seen the look in his eyes when she told him she had no children, just as disappointed as when she told him there was nothing going on between her and Elliot.
Tell your partner how you feel before it's too late.
She shoved her hand into her jean pocket and slid her phone out. She fingered it for a few moments before she made the call. It rang a few times and she held her breath not sure of what she would even say if he answered. They weren't even partners anymore, a thought that she'd fought so hard not to believe she'd almost forgotten it was the truth.
She heard the line pick up. "Hey," he said softly.
She sat up abruptly as if she had expected it to go to his voicemail. "Hey," she repeated.
After that she lost her train of thought and couldn't seem to formulate a word. She sensed his concern before he spoke.
"You ok?" he asked.
No.
She tried to push the emotion aside because breaking down on the phone wouldn't help anyone.
"Liv?" His concern was rising by the second.
"Yeah," she finally expelled in a breath and she swallowed. "Yeah I'm ok." She should ask him about his case, about his kids, about his wellbeing but he'd see through the small talk and frankly she couldn't face it.
"I… um," she started. She tried again. "I was hoping you could do me a favor and talk to Cragen," she asked with a hint of hesitation. She waded through the short silence and wondered if Elliot was still on the line.
"About what?" he sounded confused.
Her mind ticked over at just how she was going to word this. When she didn't answer he took a guess.
"Liv," he said with exasperation. "He's not going to back down on the two weeks."
"No, it's not that," she said stopping him in his tracks.
"Then what?" Elliot pressed with a mix of confusion and concern.
She sighed into the receiver and closed her eyes, she needed to say it before she lost her nerve. She needed to say it before it was too late.
"I don't want a new partner Elliot," she said quietly.
The minutes ticked over and the silence on the other end of the phone was deafening. Her heart was thumping a mile as she waited for his response.
"Liv," he began and she could hear the deflation in his voice. It killed her.
No. She needed him to fight for them, she couldn't bare him giving up like Silverman had.
"Liv," he repeated and just like that she knew his next words would change everything. "Irequested the partner change."
Her eyes widened, her breath caught and she felt as if she'd been punched in the gut.
A few moments of silence was all she could bare before she clicked off the phone call and let the phone fall from her grasp.
TBC
