A/N: This chapter is a doozy, over 9,500 words! So make yourself a cup of coffee or tea, kick your feet up and enjoy!

"The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry." – Robert Burns, "To a Mouse."

5:33 pm - Warehouse, Brooklyn Naval Yard

Trey reached inside the box and grabbed two Beretta 92FS pistols. He added one magazine to each and racked the slides. He lifted up the back of his shirt and jammed one into his jeans, then he walked over to Q and gave him the second gun.

"So what's the plan, Nino? We gonna bum rush these guys and rob them blind or are we gonna be strategic and shit?" Trey asked.

"No one's stealing anything. Guillermo owes me 500 large worth of coke in exchange for last week's gun shipment. Yesterday, he told me he didn't have enough weight to front my cut, but I know for a fact that he got 40 kilos fresh off the plane two days ago, so it's time for him to pay up. I'm not asking you to steal, just claim what's rightfully mine, understand?"

Trey nodded. Nino turned towards Q, "Alright Preppie, it's almost showtime. Trey told me you don't know your way around guns, so you two are gonna get in a little practice before the main event. Hopefully you won't have to fire one off for real, but it's better to be prepared then to end up in a body bag. Get going."

Q tried to move forward, but his legs felt like he was trapped in quicksand.

C'mon Quentin, time to wake up, This is just a bad dream. Please let this be a bad dream. Wake up. WAKE THE FUCK UP!

"What are you waitin' for?" Nino barked and stalked towards him, "I gave you an order."

"Can I sit this one out, man? Guns aren't my thing."

Nino closed the gap between them. "Can you sit this one out? Where do you think you are right now, at a high school dance? You know too much for us to let you leave. Like it or not, Preppie, you're one of us now, so I suggest you get with the program because there's only one way out of this family," he said and patted his holster for emphasis.

Rivulets of sweat ran from each of Q's armpits. At 6'4" 250 pounds, Nino scared the shit out of men twice the boy's age and size. Q cowered at the wall of skin and muscle looming over him and clenched his bladder so he wouldn't piss himself. Instinct urged him to run, but something else kept him rooted to the spot. Much to his shock, he felt his fear dissolving and slowly morphing into anger.

Nino leaned in and inhaled the air above Q's head savoring the mixture of fear and sweat. He stepped back to look at the teenager. His eyes began at the boy's brand new Jordan's, traveled up his designer jeans and finally rested on his face. Despite his shaking and clammy skin, Q matched the mob boss's gaze with a somewhat timid, but defiant glare of his own. Nino's lips curled into a predatory grin.

Trey inched forward to de-escalate the situation. At first he feared that Nino would pound Q into minced meat, but after watching this David and Goliath standoff, he wasn't so sure. He couldn't tell if Q had the biggest ballsack this side of Brooklyn or if he was a few cards short of a full deck. Either way, he was happy that the kid was on their side.

"Nino, don't worry. He'll come through for us, ain't that right, Q?"

Trey's voice yanked him out of his trance. He was so possessed by his anger that he forgot where he was. His blinked a few times to get his vision back in focus and saw Trey staring at him in awe, while Nino looked ready to tear him in two. He quickly nodded, unsure of what he was agreeing to.

Nino didn't answer, his eyes raked over Q one last time. He drew his lips into a tight line and lowered himself into his chair. "He damn well better or it's his ass." He looked Trey dead in the eye, "And yours."

5:45 pm - 16th Precinct

Nick and Olivia walked into the precinct with a sense of urgency, careful to hide any clues about their eventful lunch and the prospect of a second (and hopefully less disastrous) date. Benson walked in ahead of Nick straight towards Cragen.

"Who's our vic?" she asked.

"Aubree Wicke. Twenty-two years old, white female, Hunter College student. She lives on The Upper East Side near 66th and Lex with her two roommates. She was attacked a block away from her apartment on her way back from the neighborhood deli a few minutes after 12 o' clock this afternoon. Rape kit found no traces of semen; the assailant used a condom. No hairs or clothing fibers, either."

Confusion creased her tanned forehead. "You said she lives on The Upper East? That's not exactly around the corner from Chelsea."

Cragen nodded and his serious face grew more somber, "I know. This guy's no idiot. He knows we're hot on his trail, and he's switched gears to throw us off course. He could be anywhere right now. The good news is that Ms. Wicke got a good look at him and has already given her description to Lenny. Once he wraps up the sketch we'll check it against the system to see if we get a match and then we'll put out a BOLO for all five boroughs and Long Island. I need you and Amaro in Interrogation Room One.

"We're on it, Cap," Nick said and he and Olivia made their way towards the box. When they got there they saw Rollins speaking with the victim; Nick lightly rapped his knuckles against the window to get her attention. Rollins excused herself and hopped up from her chair to exit the room. She closed the door behind her and looked from one detective to the other.

"I was beginning to think that y'all were playing hooky at the same time. Where were you two?" she asked.

Nick opened his mouth, but no words escaped. Olivia raised her eyebrow at the younger detective's questioning, but remained professional.

"We grabbed a bite to eat, if you must know. We can talk about what was on the lunch menu later, right now let's focus our attention on the victim, OK?"

Nick smiled inwardly at how quickly Olivia pulled rank and took control of the situation to divert the attention away from her.

And that's why she's the senior detective.

Amanda acquiesced. She realized that now was not the time to probe her colleagues about their possible office romance. "You're right, Liv. I'm sorry. Did Cragen fill you in?"

Olivia nodded, "Yes. Did you find out anything else?"

Amanda shook her head, "No. I just sat down for a couple of minutes before you and Nick showed up. I only had enough time to grab a cup of water for her, poor thing," she said peering through the two-way mirror.

Olivia nodded and smiled, "Thanks Amanda, we'll take it from here." She angled her head towards the room and looked at Nick before placing her hand on the door knob.

"Ready?"

He nodded and followed her inside.

Olivia sat directly across from Ms. Wicke, while Nick took his place beside her a little further away. It was customary for male detectives to keep a relative distance from a recent rape victim.

"Hello Ms. Wicke, I'm Detective Benson and this is my partner Detective Amaro. I'm sorry we have to meet under such unfortunate circumstances."

Aubree closed her eyes, and a tear landed on the table with a soft ping. She opened her mouth and winced; her split lip made it painful to talk normally, so she spoke from the right side of her mouth to keep the pain at bay.

"Thank you, detective, but I'm hoping you'll catch this son-of-a-bitch soon so another girl won't be sitting in this chair tomorrow. I've already given the sketch artist a description. What else do you need from me?"

Olivia lowered her eyes; this was the part she hated the most. Not that any part of a rape interrogation was pleasant, but she dreaded this part most of all, not for herself, but for the victims.

"We need you to tell us everything that happened in as much detail as you can, starting at the beginning.

Aubree nodded and cleared her throat before beginning, "The sooner we get this over with the sooner I can take a shower and wash this bastard's filth off of me," she said and choked back a sob.

"I was walking back from Hunter Delicatessen around the corner from my apartment when I noticed a man out of the corner of my eye following me."

"Did you notice him following you earlier?" Nick interjected.

She looked towards Nick and nodded, "Yes, I noticed him sitting on the stairs of the building next to mine on my way to the deli. I thought he was waiting for someone, so didn't think much of it until I saw him again on my way back home."

"What happened next, Ms. Wicke?" Olivia asked.

She took in a deep breath and slowly pushed the air out between her lips, "I knew at that point that he was tailing me. I panicked, but I knew that I couldn't go straight home. So I cut over to 5th Ave. because I knew there was a winter festival going on and I thought I could lose him in the crowd, you know?"

Olivia and Nick both nodded sympathetically and urged her to continue with their eyes.

"At one point I thought he was gone, so I walked up to 69th and 5th and figured I'd walk along Lexington Ave. and back over to 66th, but…" her breathing became choppy and she thought she was going to hyperventilate and began flailing her hands.

"Ms. Wicke, breathe slowly," Nick instructed, careful not to touch her. "Breathe in. Now breathe out. Breathe in. Good, now breathe out." They repeated this exercise until she calmed down.

She shook her head vigorously and put her hand up to let Nick know that she had pulled herself together. "Before I knew it, he crept out of an alley and pinned by shoulders against the wall. Then he turned me around and slammed my face against the brick wall, shoved an object against me and pulled me further into the alley. He told me he had a gun sticking out of my back and that he'd pull the trigger if I didn't do exactly what he said."

"Did you confirm that the weapon was a gun?" Nick asked.

"Yeah, right before I asked him for the make and model. What do you think?" she snapped. "I'm sorry, detective, I know you're just doing your job," she sighed. "Yes, it was a gun. I heard the click when he cocked it back. He reached around and undid my jeans and then he slid them down, along with my underwear, to my knees," she paused before continuing, "The next I heard was him pulling on his zipper. I tried to keep my legs locked, but he wedged in his foot and forced my ankles apart. And then he….h-h-h-he r-raped…" she couldn't get out the last word and began to sob. Olivia instinctively laid her hand over the young girl's fingers.

"It's going to be OK, Aubree. You did great. You're a survivor. Don't ever forget that. He can never take your will to survive."

Nick's face remained stoic as he watched the scene before him, but he on the inside he was filled with awe. It never ceased to amaze him how compassionate Olivia was with the victims, how natural she was with them. Sometimes he wished he did a better job of comforting them, it made him angry to know that he couldn't, but as a man, he knew he had to err on the side of caution when it came to female vics.

"Aubree, can we get you something to eat? Do you need a refill on your water?" Nick asked. She shook her head.

"No, I just want to go home and scrub my skin raw. Can I go?" she asked.

Olivia nodded, "We'll have an officer give you a ride home and walk you up to your apartment." She gave Aubree her card. "Call me if you need anything. Day or night."

6:30 pm - Warehouse, Brooklyn Naval Yard

"Trey, tonight, when you grab the weight, I need you to unload a little off the top before you get back."

Trey knew what Nino was really asking of him, but he wasn't capable of that. A little petty theft every once and a while was about as hardcore as he got, even this job was stretching his talents to their limits. But he wasn't a murderer. He didn't want to take Q out; he liked the kid. Sure he was little fucked up, and Trey wasn't entirely sure that he wouldn't roll over on them if they were caught, but he was no less of a snitch than anyone else in the crew. He motioned for Nino to walk away from Q.

"Nino, you know I wouldn't question you. You a smart guy. But don't you think that'll put more heat on us?"

Nino wasn't the type of man that tolerated input, especially when it came from his minions. But he was pragmatic and figured he could spare a couple of minutes if it kept him out of jail.

"I'm listening," he said.

"I'm thinkin' that leaving a dead white boy at the scene will cause more problems than it will solve. We're going uptown to pull this job and there ain't a lot of snowflakes in these parts, you know what I'm sayin'? If this backfires and dudes get bodied left and right, how's it gonna look if Q is layin' there with a bunch of black and Dominican drug dealers? You think the cops are gonna give a fuck about some dead thugs from the hood, or do you think they're gonna burn up the streets lookin' for the killers of a prep school kid from the Upper West?

Nino appeared unmoved, so he continued. "Look, after tonight if you still think he's a problem, we can ice him ourselves later, on our turf, and dump him out in East New York where no one will find him."

Nino was impressed, though you'd never know it from looking at him. He was silent as he calculated the math of his plan in his mind and figured out what to add and subtract to get the outcome that he wanted. He finally nodded in agreement to Trey.

"Tonight, you're in charge of keeping that motherfucka alive. And when I decide that he's more trouble than he's worth, you'll be in charge of ending him. Since you'll be tied up that means we need more people. I got a couple of guys that I can get on short notice. Meet me back in an hour. Be. On. Time."

Before he left, he turned to face Q one last time. "Be careful how you use those eyes of yours, Preppie. If you want to keep them both inside your head, you'd best remember who I am and what I'm capable of. Don't test me."

Q nodded, but held the larger man's gaze once more. Nino turned and briskly walked out of the warehouse. For a man that looked like a former NFL player, he moved with the agility of a man half his size. Trey exhaled a shaky breath and sat down. He wasn't sure if he talked himself out of an immediate problem or talked himself into an even bigger catastrophe, but he knew find out soon enough.

"You ready?" he heard someone whisper. He turned and saw an uneasy Q staring back at him.

"Yeah. Grab your gun, and let's head out back."

One of the benefits of setting up your headquarters in an abandoned warehouse sitting on over three acres of land is that you had plenty of space of to expand. Nino built a state-of-the-art indoor gun range on the side of the warehouse that was soundproofed from the inside and outside.

Q's shooting during first round was pathetic, he managed to hit every part of the paper silhouette, except the areas that mattered. He stared long and hard at the outline riddled with bullet holes. If Nino's plan went south tonight, he was as good as dead.

Trey took off his headphones and peered over Q's shoulder.

"You'll get better," he said, trying to encourage him, but paper doesn't lie. Q's aim was beyond terrible. The longer he stared at that paper, the less he believed that Q could watch his back.

"What if I don't want to get better?" he challenged.

"What you want ain't got shit to do with what's important. This is Nino's house and these are his rules. If you enjoy breathing, you'll follow them," Trey said.

"Whoever's waiting for us outside of this warehouse scares me a hell of lot more than that muscle-bound psycho right now. As much as I hate guns, at least they give us a fighting chance," Q said.

"What's your beef with guns, anyway? Guns and hip-hop go hand in hand. You're the only cat I know who wanna roll with gangs but don't wanna fire off a piece."

"They're the reason my family's dead."

"Look man, you had to know on some level what you were getting into when you rolled with us. We ain't exactly the Boy Scouts of America. I'm real sorry for what happened to your fam, but unless you want to end up like them, you'll keep practicing."

The nonchalance dripping from Trey's voice when he referenced his family broke something inside him.

"Fuck you, Trey. My mom wasn't out looking for trouble like the two of us. Trouble found her and it killed her," he said and turned his attention back to the range. "Don't ever bring my family up again."

"Q."

He turned around just in time to see Trey lift up the front of his shirt, revealing an angry scar that traveled the length of his ribcage.

"I don't mean any disrespect. I know what it's like when trouble seeks you out. I used to be a good student when I was a teenager; I even got into Stuyvesant High. But God had other plans for me, I guess. My older brother was killed in a crossfire between the Bloods and another local gang when I was 16. Do you know what it's like to see your family mowed down right in front of you?" he asked.

"One of the Blood members caught me before I could run. He told me if I snitched they'd make sure my brother and I were resting side by side in matching coffins. Then he left me with this lovely souvenir to show me that he meant business," he said pointing to the scar. "After I graduated high school, I joined the Crips for protection. The truth is even though I've rolled with gangs for the past six years, I've never fired off a shot outside this range."

Q stood frozen, mouth hanging open and a series of clicks sounding off in his head. He never realized the similarities between himself and Trey, but now his friend's inexplicable affinity towards him made sense. He had taken to Q because Trey knew he was in emotional pain. Q's wounds were still seeping, but Trey's had long scabbed over.

"You had me fooled, man. You stuff so much slang into everything you say, I thought you were…"

"A dumb thug?" Trey asked, with a harshness that lingered beneath his words.

"Not dumb. You're definitely not stupid. I just thought you were, you know, really street smart."

Trey laughed out loud at his naïve friend's observation, "Good, that's the impression I was going for. You won't get the homies' respect if you're barking at them in proper English. You know, it feels good to sound like myself. Sometimes I feel like I'm undercover in this world, and I'm scared that one day I'll forget who I really am."

"Why don't you get out of the game, Trey?"

Trey smiled at him but there was sadness brimming in his eyes. He shoved his hands in his pockets and closed his eyes. He heard this question many times before and most of the time he was the one doing the asking. But his answer was always the same:

"This is the only life I know. I mean I could pick up more bodyguard gigs at the clubs in the city, but one of Nino's jobs is like getting paid for forty or fifty shifts in one night. That's just too much dough to walk away from. If my brother hadn't died, my fate would have been different, but we all have to play the hand we're dealt."

Q placed his hand on Trey's shoulder and gripped it tightly as he looked his friend in the eye. No words were necessary in this moment; the grief of loss went far beyond the verbal and cut straight to the soul. Q loaded another magazine into the gun and racked the slide.

"I'm up for another round if you are. Who knows, maybe I'll even hit the target this time."

They managed to get in two more rounds before Nino returned. Q's shooting improved; his aim was less wild and more precise. Nino walked into the warehouse calmer than he left, and they took that as a good sign.

Before walking into his office, turned around, "You two," he pointed to them, "come here." Once Trey and Q walked into the room, he shut the door. Nino spread out a diagram across his desk. The diagram had a series of bright red X's scattered throughout the paper.

"Here is a map of Guillermo's fortress. The X's are all of the entrances along the perimeter. You and Preppie will come in through the right-side entrance, here," he pointed to the area. "Guillermo's men will be waiting for you."

"Won't they pat us down?" Q asked.

"Nice to know you're thinking ahead, Preppie. But no, you two won't get frisked. But we have another problem. I called Guillermo before I came here, and he only copped to getting half the shipment of coke. Claimed he can only give me half the coke. That's why you are going to let him give you one half, but you're going to take the other. "

"So what happens if Guillermo decides he's gonna keep all the coke for himself? His crew will have all the entrances surrounded. It won't be hard to take us out," Trey said.

Nino nodded, "That's why your backup is coming in from above. Guillermo has bullet-proof glass on every window in that rat hole, except for the two on the roof. Remember those two guys I told you about this afternoon? They can scale the side of a building in minutes and will stand guard on the roof. One false move by his goons and it'll be hailing bullets. Once I wire you and Q up, they'll be able to hear everything going on inside. If you're in trouble, all you have to do is say the magic word: rain."

8:15 pm - 16th Precinct

The detectives were huddled together in the middle of the floor. Cragen looked distraught and the worry etched across his face was as deep as the grooves in his forehead. Tonight was just one of many blurred throughout his almost two-decade long career, and he was exhausted. But not just because of the case.

You've been at this for a long time and for all your efforts, the streets are no cleaner than when you first walked through SVU's doors. How much longer can you keep this up, old boy?

"Liv, Nick, Aubree wanted me to give you two a message. She said there was one thing she forgot to tell you, but I'm going announce it since it involves everyone here," Cragen said.

Both Olivia and Nick glanced at each other and waited for him to continue.

"She said after her attacker finished, he told her he was, and I quote, 'tired of you pale, privileged bitches, so I'm headed to uptown for a little sabor (flavor).'"

He stepped forward and took control of the floor, "Alright everybody, listen up. Our suspect is a white male, approximately 30-35 years old, with light blond hair, green eyes and a hairline scar across the top of his right eyebrow. Suspect is armed and considered highly dangerous. Last known whereabouts were 66th and Lexington. He's most likely headed towards Spanish Harlem or Washington Heights. Everybody grab a Kevlar and suit up. It's going to be a long night."

8:30pm - Silk, Q and Trey, en route to Guillermo's...

After Trey and Q were wired up, fitted with bullet proof vests and given enough ammo to take out a small village, they piled into the tinted-out Dodge Charger and Silk drove them to Guillermo's.

All three were silent during the drive. Each man had his own set of troubles weighing heavily on his mind. Silk tried to lighten the mood to break the tension.

"Q, I bet when you first came to Bed-Stuy you didn't think this is where you would end up, huh?

He didn't answer; he only shook his head and looked at the ground.

"How'd you get mixed up with us anyway?" Silk continued.

"Dumb luck, I guess."

"If you were really lucky you wouldn't be riding with us," Trey said, and reached into his jacket and pulled out the largest Ziploc bag Q had ever seen filled with thousands of tiny turquoise pills. "That's why I brought these babies along to even up our odds," he said shaking the bag with a smug look on this face.

"Is that…X?" Q asked.

"I prefer to call it insurance," Trey said.

Silk watched the scene from the car mirror, "How'd you score that much Molly under Nino's nose?" he asked.

"Because I've got connections, too. Nino ain't the only motherfucka with juice up in this piece. He thinks he runs shit, but that's only 'cause I allow him to think that. Q, if you're going to survive in this game remember one thing: Never clue anybody in on how smart you really are," he said and winked at him. "The plan's real simple: We're going to sell Guillermo enough X to get the other half of Nino's coke back, and the two of us will live to see another day."

"I'm not sure going against Nino's plan is a good idea," Q said.

"Well let me dumb things down for you then. You've got two options: You can either walk out of there on your own two legs or you can be carried out," Trey said.

"And what happens if Nino finds out that your supply is sucking money out of his ecstasy game? He's going to want your head and the heads of anyone associated with you. I appreciate you looking out for me, but I think we're safer carrying out Nino's plan."

"You're forgetting something, Q."

He turned to face Trey, and a quizzical look crossed his pained face.

"Dead men can't follow orders."

9:15pm - Nick and Olivia (Squad Car)

Nick and Olivia slid into their squad car and headed towards uptown on the Henry Hudson Parkway. They hadn't said much to each other during their drive because they were thinking about the long night ahead.

"You ever think about what you would be doing if you weren't a cop?" he asked.

Her eyebrow shot up, and she laughed out loud. "We're in hot pursuit of an armed rapist, and you want to reminisce about who we wanted to be before we grew up?"

"Just humor me a little, Liv. We'll have plenty of time to focus on that sick freak, probably most of the night, so let's sneak in some normal conversation while we can."

She sighed. She had only ever considered one other profession besides being a cop. And it involved her mother, a subject she wasn't enthused to discuss with him.

"One of the bright spots of my childhood was my mother's love of reading. She was a college English professor and, some of my earliest memories were of me sitting in her lap while she read to me. If I wasn't a cop, I could see myself as a teacher."

The car became silent again, and Nick focused back on the road. He waited for her to reciprocate out of interest rather than him volunteering information about himself. He stared out of the corner of his eye at her, but remained quiet.

Olivia caught his eye and laughed on the inside; even when he didn't speak he managed to get his message across. She knew he was waiting for her. He tried to play it cool, but he gave her the side eye so often she thought his eyes would freeze in that position.

"What did you want to be?" she asked.

"Wow, I thought you'd never ask," he said.

"I had to. I need both of your eyes on the road, not one on the road and one on me. We need to make it to the crime scene in one piece."

He laughed and she released the chuckle she had been holding in. "Back when I was growing up in Florida, I was a baseball fanatic. My Mom and sisters were always tripping over my bats or my gloves—needless to say they weren't fans. I was pretty good, I even got accepted to the Minor Leagues right before I joined the Academy."

"So your backup plan to becoming a cop was to become a professional baseball player? My teacher dream seems pretty lame compared to that. Way to steal my thunder, Amaro," she said and smirked.

"Nah, professional athletes entertain kids, at best they can be a sort of role model. But teachers inspire kids to be anything they want to be. I have a feeling you'd be right at home as a teacher. You're great with kids, Liv, everyone knows that," he said.

She turned her head away from him, and almost instantly Nick realized his mistake. The conversation about kids from their lunch was still fresh in her mind. She always wanted to be a mother more than anything else, even more than being a cop, and she wasn't sure she'd ever get the chance. Even though Nick not-so-subtly offered to be her sperm donor, the last thing she wanted was to bring a child into her life before the both of them figured things out. If they figured things out.

She was so angry at herself; if she hadn't put this job before her happiness she could have had a husband and children by now. For every piece of shit rapist, chomo and sadist that they caught at least three more would rise to take his place. The streets hadn't gotten any cleaner over the years, but her heart had grown harder.

Never spend all of your time loving something that can't love you back.

Nick's words from the previous day went round and round through her head like a merry-go-round. He was right. She only prayed that she still had time to fulfill her longing.

She stared out the window watching the city lights and buildings blur together as they barreled down the highway. He looked out of the corner of his eye at her, and he knew she was trying to keep herself from falling apart. He stared straight ahead at the road and reached over and placed his right hand over hers. She continued looking out the window and flipped her hand, palm side up, threading her fingers through his.

They rode the rest of the way in silence.

9:30 pm, Guillermo's Lair – 186th St. and St. Nicholas Ave. (Washington Heights)

It didn't take long for Q to bend to Trey's plan. Nino's plan didn't hold Trey or Q's life in the highest regard. If their backup didn't react in time, they'd be dead, but giving the X to Guillermo for the other half of the coke made more sense.

Silk rounded the corner, prepared to circle the block at least once in pursuit of a parking spot. He didn't need to hunt for long because there was a spot across the street. He pulled in and turned off the ignition.

"We're here," Silk announced.

Trey rolled his eyes, "'Cause you pulling into this parking spot and turning off the car wasn't enough of a clue." There's a reason why Silk wasn't paid to think. Trey turned to face him, "You know what to do. In exactly 90 minutes you start up this car and wait for 10 minutes. If we don't show up, swing 'round the block twice. If you still don't see us, leave 'cause there probably ain't no one alive to pick up."

Q rubbed his hands together hoping the friction would distract him from the grim scenario that Trey was painting. If he wasn't having second thoughts before he was now.

"C'mon Trey, you said it yourself, it's an even exchange. This should be easy, right?" Q asked.

"There's no such thing as easy when it comes to crime, Q. I never said this was a safe bet, I only said it evened up our odds for survival. Plus, we've got Sean and Mike on the roof top for backup." He looked straight ahead across the street, "C'mon, let's get this over with."

Q followed Trey's lead, but hung back a bit confused as to why they were headed towards a deli.

We're about to be involved in a drug exchange that may kills us and this guy has the munchies?

"How can you eat right now? I'm nervous as shit," Q said.

Trey laughed out loud and watched as the confusion danced across the young man's face. "This isn't a pit stop. This is the stop," Trey said.

"You're telling me that one of the most successful drug lords in the city runs his business inside…of a deli?" Q asked.

"Yep and I'm telling you that's why he's so successful. Stop and think for a second, if you don't want something to be found where is the best place to hide it?" Trey asked.

After a minute, his face lit up with realization. "In plain sight."

"And since the deli is a cash-only business it's the perfect place to launder dirty drug money through," Trey said. "Nino, Guillermo, these guys may not have fancy college degrees or prep school smarts, but they've got plenty of street sense and raw ambition. And those are two of the only things you need to run shit in this world," Trey said.

Q looked up at Trey and nodded.

"Let's do this, son."

Q took a look around this run-down shop that supposedly housed a sophisticated drug operation. Not only was he unconvinced of this, but he suspected that Trey was strung out on his own supply. This deli didn't look like the ones downtown, this one had isles filled with shelves of overpriced food of questionable quality. The cracked linoleum tile and discolored walls had seen better days and the only liquor in the joint was stored in a sad little fridge with a single motor that sounded as if it was on its last legs.

There was a kid sitting behind the counter with a smirk on his face as if he were privy to a secret the other two men weren't in on.

"You're here to see Guillermo about a ski trip, right?" the kid asked, putting a little too much emphasis on the word 'ski.' Trey nodded.

"Come with me," the kid said and turned to lift up the counter to let the two of them pass through. They slipped through the side double doors and into a whole new world.

Neither one of them was prepared for what they saw. There were enormous bags of cocaine piled high from the floor to the ceiling in one room. In another, state-of-the-art scales that looked big enough to weigh a whale on. Q and Trey watched as four large men squatted to lift one bag onto each of their shoulders.

"You two part of Nino's crew?" one of Guillermo's goons asked. He was Puerto Rican and looked to be in his late twenties with a machine gun strapped to his shoulder like he was in the military. He looked at Q, clearly confused.

Trey nodded, "Yeah, him too," he said answering the man's unspoken question.

"Guillermo's back here, follow me," he instructed and turned to stare at Q one final time. They followed him to an office in the back of the warehouse. The back of a large black chair faced them as they walked in.

"G, Nino's thugs are here," the Nuyorican announced. The chair spun around to reveal Guillermo perched like a pudgy king atop his leather throne. The light bounced off of his alabaster suit and the gold rings that adorned his meaty fingers, making him almost glow.

"Have a seat gentlemen," Guillermo said and smiled. That'll be all, Rafael."

"So how can I help you…I'm sorry, what's your name?" he asked leaning towards Trey.

"Trey and this here is Q," he said.

"Q, huh?" Guillermo said, eyeing the boy up and down with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "First time I've seen anyone that looks like you in Nino's ranks. Guess Nino's an equal opportunity crime recruiter these days, huh?" he said looking at Trey. Trey smiled faintly, but the look on his face let Guillermo know that he wasn't in the mood for jokes.

"Alright fellas, let's get down to business. I've got a duffel bag for your boss filled to the brim with the finest snow this side of the Hudson," he said and lifted up the bag as evidence before he dropped it on the table with a thud.

"What if I told you that I wanted you to fill up another duffel bag with coke?" Trey asked.

Guillermo said nothing as his eyes bore into Trey. They remained glued to the young man's face for a full minute before he smiled. "I would tell you that you'd better not be wasting my time or you'll end up in a bag of your own," he said, still grinning.

Trey sported a smile of his own, "And I say I got somethin' worth your time." He stood up and slowly opened his jacket, holding his left hand up to show he wasn't reaching for a weapon. His hand disappeared under his coat, and he pulled out a large bag of ecstasy and placed it on the table. Guillermo's eyes greedily combed over the merchandise.

"Good golly, Miss Molly," Guillermo drawled fondling the bag. "You lookin' mighty fine, girl." He looked at Trey, "How much?" he asked.

"Another five hundred large worth of coke. That there's eleven pounds of the finest MDMA around."

Guillermo reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a scale. He placed the bag onto the scale and watched the display intently. The digital readout confirmed Trey's statement and 11.0 lbs glowed in a shade of blood red.

"Let's get that second bag ready."

Guillermo rose and opened up a safe. He reached in and filled a second duffel bag with 18 bricks of cocaine. He placed the bag on the table and gently shoved it towards Trey.

"Pleasure doing business with you."

10:25 pm - Nick and Olivia (Squad Car)

Nick and Olivia had just made their way into Washington Heights when Nick's phone rang.

"Amaro," he answered. "Captain? Liv and I just got to Washington Heights. I'm still driving, so she's going to put you on speaker phone," he said and passed the phone to his partner.

"Alright Cap, what's the latest?" she asked.

"We've got a good amount of manpower here. Can you guys grab about 10 coffees and some snacks for the guys in the meantime? We're over on 188th and St. Nicholas Ave."

Nick laughed under his breath, but shook his head. "Yeah Cap, we're on it. See you in a few, he said, and Olivia ended the call "I guess SVU now stands for the Snacks and Vending Machine Unit," he muttered, and Olivia laughed out loud.

"You like Cuban coffee, Liv?" he asked and she nodded.

"I know a spot just around the corner that serves up a mean cafecito."

10:30 pm - Guillermo's Lair – 186th St. and St. Nicholas Ave. (Washington Heights)

"Not so fast, G," Trey said. "I need proof that you're giving me a million dollars' worth of coke, which by my calculations, weighs 36 kilos."

Guillermo pretended to look offended," What, my word isn't good enough?" he asked. Trey and Q looked unmoved. Guillermo laughed heartily, "Of course it isn't, I'm a fucking drug dealer, you shouldn't trust anything that comes out of my mouth," he said and headed towards the door. "This way, fellas," he said. Trey looked over at Q and mouthed the word 'backup' to him, and Q nodded before they turned to follow Guillermo out.

Guillermo walked into the room with the giant scale that they saw earlier. He placed both bags on the scale. Q's palms began to sweat as they waited with baited breath for the verdict. They heard a beep and then saw '36 kilos' glowing in red; Q exhaled a sigh of relief. Trey reached down and picked up the bag with one hand and handed Guillermo the bag of ecstasy with the other.

"Thanks for the memories, G," he said and shook hands with the fat mobster. He looked over at Q, "Let's bounce, yo."

"Rafael and Cristian will see you out. Give my regards to Nino," Guillermo said, and Rafael led the way with a smaller looking goon tailing the two men. They were almost in front of the double doors, when they heard a gun cock behind them.

Trey looked at Q from the corner of his eye. He anticipated Guillermo double crossing them. Nino was right: they should have just taken the coke and ran.

"I guess it's true what they say, there's really no honor among thieves, is there?" he asked and laughed as he raised his hands in the air, and Q followed suit.

Guillermo laughed, "Nope. Not only am I keeping your ecstasy, but I want the same amount delivered to me every week like clockwork, or I'll make sure a little birdie tells Nino that you're cutting into his profits."

Trey nodded. "I should have seen this coming," he said and a devilish grin spread across his face. "I guess when it rains, it fucking pours."

10:33pm - Guillermo's Lair – 186th St. and St. Nicholas Ave. (Washington Heights)

Nick pulled into a spot right in front of a deli and the two exited the car and walked in. Olivia looked around the dilapidated surroundings and frowned. The place looked more like a rundown bodega than a city deli. Nick turned around and saw the expression on her face.

"Don't worry, the coffee tastes better than this place looks," he said. She nodded, but was unconvinced of his promise.

"What's happening, my man?" Nick said to the kid manning the counter. The kid smiled at them but looked nervous. "Twelve large café cubanos, please," he said. The kid nodded and went to make their coffee, but every so often he turned his head towards the double doors on the right. Both cops saw this and looked at each other.

"Hey, kid, is there something you want to…? Nick started to ask but stopped as he heard two sets of footsteps scurry above his head. Three sets of eyes looked skyward.

Guillermo and his men heard the footsteps and looked up, but the men peering down at them from the roof were too fast and released a hailstorm of bullets below as Trey and Q ducked and ran into the room across the way.

Nick and Olivia immediately drew their guns, and Olivia radioed in a call to dispatch. "This is Detective Benson from SVU to dispatch. Do you copy?" she asked.

The loud stream of static crackled through the radio. "Detective Benson, where's is your location?" the young man asked.

"We're at 186th and St. Nicholas. We've got a 10-10 in progress, multiple shots fired with suspicious behavior on the roof and ground. We need backup, I repeat, we need backup right away. Do you copy?" she asked.

"Roger that, detective," he said. "Help will be there shortly."

Rafael was hit three times before he fell to the floor and landed in a pool of his own blood. Cristian tried to aim up at the two henchmen but a bullet caught him between the eyes. Guillermo's eyes widened as he tried to turn and run, but was clipped in the ankle. He screamed and dropped to the ground, dragging his injured leg behind him.

Trey looked over at Q, "You alright man? You get hit?" he asked.

Q put his hand over his heart to try to calm himself down, "Naw, I'm good. How about you?"

"Never better," he said. "You hear that Guillermo, you fat fuck," he screamed at the top of his lungs, "You should've killed us 'cause we're coming for that ass."

Trey and Q darted out in the hallway and saw Guillermo on the ground dragging himself into his office.

"You son-of-a-bitch," Trey seethed and ran up to drug lord. He brought his foot all the way back and kicked him in the blood-soaked spot on his pants. Guillermo screamed in agony.

"Not only am I taking my X back, but I'm going to stuff a duffel bag with as many of your glocks and AK47's as I can get my hands on, as consolation for my pain and suffering," he said and laughed. "Where's your gun safe?"

"Go fuck yourself. I ain't telling you shit," Guillermo said.

Trey squatted and leaned over Guillermo, "You know, I was going to do you a solid and put a mercy bullet right in the side of your head. But since you're such an asshole, I'm going to let you bleed out slowly, while I sit back and enjoy the show," he said.

Q placed his hand on Trey's arm, "Wait," he said and turned towards the mobster. "Guillermo, did any of the illegal guns you sell wind up in the hands of kids?" Q asked.

Guillermo was breathing heavily, "You're asking me," he said in between pants, "if I keep tabs on every person that gets their hands on my guns?" he asked. "How the fuck would I know? Mira, it's not like I can control who picks them up once they're in the streets," Guillermo said.

Q lifted up his shirt, aimed his gun at the criminal's head and pulled the trigger in one fluid motion. He dropped his arm to his side and relaxed his hand. His veins filled with ice water, and his face was almost serene as he stared, transfixed, at the dead man.

Trey stood motionless at the scene before him, mouth agape and his heart beating in his throat. After several minutes had passed, he finally spoke up, "I didn't think you had it in you, dude," he said, keeping his voice as neutral possible for fear of riling the kid up again.

Q turned to him, eerily composed, and uttered a single statement that chilled Trey's blood.

"I did."

Trey remained frozen before shaking himself out of his trance. "C'mon, we gotta find a way out of here, he said, and his eyes frantically combed over every inch of the room. He saw a door handle tucked in the corner. "There," he said racing towards the door, "that's our way out," he said and pushed down on the handle making his way outside with Q on his heels.

Nick and Olivia heard the gunshot and looked at each other before rushing to the double doors. Olivia pushed up against the left door, and Nick went towards the right one. They glanced at each other and nodded before each one burst through to the other side, guns drawn.

They saw Guillermo's henchmen dead and the floor awash in their blood. Olivia reached down and placed two fingers on one man's neck and Nick did the same with the other. They both looked up at each other and shook their heads. They slowly rose and made their way down the hallway of the warehouse back-to-back, Nick moving forward and Olivia walking backwards to cover him from behind. Nick turned right into Guillermo's office and saw the crime boss with a hole in his head and his white pant suit leg drenched in blood. They heard the sirens of their backup edging closer to the building.

Q squatted behind a trash receptacle near a fence, and Trey jumped inside the receptacle nearest to the door, both of them are out of view from the cops. Q saw the side door fly open as Nick and Olivia stepped out. He recognized them as the duo he ran into on the street. They start to move in his direction. He aimed at Olivia, but he couldn't pull the trigger. He knew he'd be worshiped in Bed Stuy for shooting a cop, but he had nothing personal against her.

She's not the one that I hate.

He remained as still as a statue. He heard her whisper something to her partner, and Nick abruptly stopped and began moving in the opposite direction and around the corner.

Q lowered his gun placed it directly under the street light and exhaled. The lamp caught the muzzle of his gun, creating a shadow on the ground.

"NYPD, we've got the place surrounded. Come out with your hands up."

Trey lifted the lid of the garbage a crack to survey the landscape. The coast looked clear, so he slowly climbed out of the receptacle. Unbeknownst to the two of them, Guillermo's goons are hidden along the perimeter of the building. One of the henchmen saw the shadow from Q's gun and crept up behind him.

"Q, look out," Trey screamed, and the shooter turned to face him. Each man aimed his gun at the other and pulled the trigger at that same time. An eruption of gunfire filled the air as the remaining henchmen and the NYPD opened fire on each other.

Q raced towards Trey, and his heart dropped into his stomach at the sight before him. Trey's eyes were wide open, staring at nothing, with a hole where his right temple used to be. Q stared in disbelief at his fallen friend, before the nearby gunshots brought him back to reality. He ran back to his original hiding place and slipped through the broken wire fence, and ran into the alley and out towards the street, just in time to see Silk was circling around the block for a second time. Silk slowed down to a crawl, and Q opened the passenger door and jumped in.

Silk looked at Q with a question on his tongue, but Q shook his head before the man could choke out the words.

"I'll explain on the way back, Silk. Just drive."

Gunshots rang out from all directions and echoed in the cold air. Olivia and Nick almost made it around the corner, when one of those bullets ripped through her thigh. It exited through to the other side, bathed in a single stream of red and landed less than a foot away from her. A blood-curdling scream tore from her lips, and she propped herself up against an NYPD cruiser. Her leg smeared crimson against the car's white and blue finish, making the combination of colors look like a twisted Fourth of July tribute, as she slid down to the ground. Nick was at her side at once and applied pressure to her wound, ripping the walkie-talkie from his hip with the other hand.

"This is Detective Nicholas Amaro over at a deli on 186th and St. Nicholas Ave. We've got a 10-00. Several officers are down, including my partner, Detective Olivia Benson. All patrols respond immediately. We need at least a half-dozen buses on the scene. Do you read me?"

"Roger that, detective." said the dispatcher.

He placed his walkie-talkie on the ground and attended to Olivia. "If you think this is going to get you out of our second date, you've got another thing coming. I'm not letting you off the hook that easily," he said trying to lighten the mood, but worry poured out of his eyes. She tried to laugh through the pain, but her chuckles came out as wet coughs.

"Liv, I'm begging you, hold on," he pleaded with her and grabbed her left hand, while he pressed his other hand firmly against her leg. Her breaths became shallower, and her eyes started to flutter. "Stay with me." He positioned her so his chest supported her back and placed his legs on either side of hers. He leaned towards her, "I love you," he whispered, and she felt his breath and lips caress her ear.

The pain in her eyes dulled at his declaration, and a fresh wave of tears blurred her vision. Life wasn't just a cruel mistress in this moment, she was a wretched cunt. Olivia waited with the patience of a nun for over a decade hoping another man would utter these same words to her. And her wish finally came true as she laid in the arms of her new partner, bleeding out from beneath him.

She grabbed his hand, and with the last bit of strength that she had, traced a heart into his palm with her thumb. He almost choked on the mixture of grief and joy that lodged inside his throat. He leaned over and covered her lips with his. Their mouths remained fused when a strangely familiar fluid crossed his tongue. It was warm and tasted like salt. And metal.

Blood.

His eyes snapped open in horror to find that hers had already closed.

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