September 8, 2014

There was a freefall adrenaline to this moment; she was lying quietly in her bed on a sunny morning with her son in her lap and Elliot's arm around her shoulders but she felt herself tumbling from a great height, felt her stomach lurching up into the back of her throat, felt the frenzied, staccato racing of her heart as disaster roared towards her, louder than thunder in her ears.

There may be another way out.

There was another way out; there were, in fact, several. She could simply flee, pack up Noah in the still of the night and vanish the way she'd been planning to do for ages now. She'd said witness protection would be like a prison and it would, it would be like prison, to be beholden to the government, to have to go where they told her and check in when they told her and live out her days feeling like someone was always standing over her shoulder. Starting fresh with a new identity of her own choosing, in a place of her own choosing, under circumstances of her own choosing; that felt more like freedom. More like exercising agency over her own life, instead of continuing to allow others to dictate the course of her fate. It would take no more than a day for her to make the arrangements, and she could be gone, and then she and Noah would be safe.

But then she'd never see Elliot again. He wouldn't know where she'd gone - couldn't know, for safety's sake - and he would feel betrayed. Would be betrayed, by her, to find himself left out in the cold, abandoned, like all the other remnants of this life she no longer wanted to live. It would hurt him, because he was a good man, who believed in doing good things, who wanted to believe that she was good. And it would hurt her, to leave him. To walk away from the one person she truly wanted, when she hadn't really ever wanted anyone at all before, to turn her back on what Brian had called the best thing to ever happen to her. It would hurt, and she had hurt too much, over the course of her life. She was tired of hurting.

Besides, Elliot's boss knew about her. Depending on what he'd told the higher ups, they might come looking for her. Wheatley might not believe she wasn't involved, if she vanished right before the shit hit the fan, and he might come looking for her, too. If she bolted now she'd have to cut ties with everyone, and that would mean never knowing what danger lurked in the shadows. It would be a frightening, reckless way to live, waking up each day and wondering who would be waiting for her outside her home.

So while running was possible, she'd shelved it as an option. For now. Testifying was likewise impossible; she would not trade a gilded cage for a rusted one.

That left a third course of action: duplicity.

"Get a warrant to wiretap my house," she said. Beside her Elliot drew in a sharp breath, his bright blue eyes watching her intently. "You said you can't use the tapes I made; make your own."

"Wheatley won't deal with Kosta the way his father did," Elliot pointed out grimly. "And none of the rest of your customers seem too interested in him. Don't know what we'd record him saying in here, and I don't know that we could convince a judge-"

"You need Wheatley to talk, he's gonna need incentive. So we give it to him."

Olivia had spent her entire life in the sex business, and that meant she'd spent her entire life in the people business. Learning what made men tick, what motivated them, what made them reckless. She didn't know Wheatley well, but she felt she had the measure of him; he wasn't as complicated a man as he wanted to believe.

Noah was getting antsy and so she set him down on his feet, watched him with a fond smile on her face as he toddled away, heading for his little bedroom, and the pile of toys there. It was for the best, she thought, that he not witness this conversation; he was so little, and he wouldn't understand it, but still. There were some things she'd rather her son not hear her say, and she waited until he was out of earshot before she explained herself.

"I'll invite Wheatley to pay for a second night. I'll even give him a little discount. I'll play to his ego, make him think I enjoyed our time together, make him think I'm interested in him. And the day he's set to come here, you take down Kosta's crew."

"Jesus," Elliot muttered, incredulous and yet also, she thought, a little impressed. Maybe he could see already where this was going.

"You knock out Wheatley's competitor and out yourself as a cop. And when he comes to my place that night -"

"Why would he come though? Come on, Liv, the second everybody finds out you had a cop in your house they're all gonna be running for the hills."

"The smart ones will. Wheatley is smart, but he's not as smart as he thinks he is. He'll figure that if you had enough evidence to take him down you'd have done it already. The man thinks he's Teflon. And I'll set up the meet before Kosta gets arrested. Wheatley will be curious, and he'll be cocky. He'll think he's the only game in town, after Kosta's gone, he'll think he owns the whole damn city and everything in it and he'll want to celebrate. He'll come. And when he does, I'll ask him to kill you."

It wouldn't be enough to just arrest Wheatley for money laundering, or some shit like that. To launch some big investigation into his financials, go asking his associates questions, give him time to formulate a defense. Elliot needed Wheatley on the hook for a serious crime, and maybe agreeing to kill a cop would be enough. Maybe it would be enough to get him behind bars and keep him there while the cops disassembled his empire brick by brick.

"It's not enough to just arrest him, and you know it," she said quietly. Elliot was silent, digesting the grim scenario she'd laid out for him.

"Guys like him can order hits from inside prison. But how do they do that? They need money, or they need people who are loyal to them, or both. If you lock him up you can freeze his assets and he won't be able to pay. But he may still have some muscle on his side willing to go after you or me. To keep us safe we have to take out his hired guns, too. We need their names. We need proof. And I can get that for you on tape."

"You think you're gonna get him to tell you the name of the guy he'll use to kill me? How you gonna manage that?"

"Men get loose lipped after sex," she said with a shrug.

She felt Elliot's wince, turned her head in time to see the pained expression washing across his face. The night before last she'd slept beside Elliot, had held him, loved him, given to him parts of herself she never allowed anyone else, and it wouldn't sit well with him, the idea of her fucking Wheatley again. Letting Wheatley have her before Elliot, that had been forgiven, but letting him do it again after? It would push the bounds of Elliot's sensibilities, and she knew it, but it would be the best way to get Wheatley to talk, the best way to reassure him of her loyalties and make him feel comfortable.

"I'll tell him how you used me and how I hate you for it. And then I'll fuck him, and afterwards I'll ask him for details. I'll poke all his buttons. I can get him to talk. And then you'll have it on tape."

It was, she thought, a pretty good plan. Wheatley would never have time to actually threaten Elliot; his fate would be sealed as soon as he spoke. Maybe Elliot could listen to the tapes live, as the conversation unfolded; maybe he could arrest Wheatley's goons while the man was otherwise occupied, and then snatch up Wheatley as he walked out of Oak House in the morning, before he ever made any of the arrangements. Maybe -

"It won't be enough, him just saying yes," Elliot said darkly. "Any good defense attorney will say he was just agreeing with you because he was afraid of you, that he never had any intention of following through. We need more."

"You need him to actually try to kill you?" she asked, alarmed. Maybe this cops and robbers shit really wouldn't play out like the movies.

"It's a solid plan," Elliot mused. "It'll be a hell of a lot quicker than building a racketeering case against him. And if we move now the families aren't likely to do much to try to protect him; he's only been in charge for a month and no one really likes him. If he gets himself picked up just weeks after taking over, they're gonna call him weak and they're gonna let someone else take the reins. They might even kill him themselves just to keep him quiet, no one trusts this prick. But if we're gonna get him, we need him to actually try to kill me."

"We can't let that happen," Olivia said sharply. It was too much of a risk. Elliot was a cop and a former Marine and she knew he could hold his own in a fight, but how could he defend himself against a hired gun? Once everyone knew that Eddie Ashes was actually Elliot Stabler, no quarter in the city would be safe for him. Wheatley's men could go after him any time, anywhere. There were too many variables, and she couldn't stomach it, knowing that Elliot was in danger. In danger because of her, because of the plan she'd set in motion. The adrenaline set her hands to shaking, and she shifted beside him, lifted herself up onto her knees so she could look into his eyes, so he could see her pleading with him, begging him to keep her safe.

"We can if we control it," he said reassuringly, reaching out to run his hands gently up and down the length of her arms. "Tell him to do it here."

"Elliot-"

"Tell him to do it here. Give him a date, tell him no one will be here. This house is soundproofed, and since you asked him to do it you're on the hook as much as he is. I'm sure Brian's done some shady shit before -" he didn't know the half of it - "so you can tell him Brian will help dispose of my body. He'll want to just send his guy but you tell him if it's gonna happen in your house he has to be here, too. Tell him he needs to have as much skin in the game as you do. Tell him to arrange a meet with me. Tell him to lure me here. And when everybody's in the house my team will come in and take out him and his goons. His men might even talk if we offer them a deal, help us lock him up for good."

This is a stupid plan, she thought despairingly. What if she did all that, made all those arrangements, and Wheatley decided to take Elliot out on his own terms? What if she did it, and Wheatley grew suspicious, and never showed? What if Wheatley tried to kill her at the same time, to tie up all the loose ends?

"You don't have to do this," Elliot murmured, watching intently, as if he could hear the questions ricocheting around in her head. His hands were still on her body, warm and comforting, but she felt small, and scared, and acted on impulse, then, slid herself over him, slotted her knees into place either side of his hips and settled herself over his lap, her face so close to his now that their noses were almost brushing while he wound his arms around her, caught his hands together at the small of her back and held her close.

"It's not your fight," he continued. "You can get clear of this, and leave it with me."

Maybe she should have said yes. Maybe she should have agreed, should have taken off running. Maybe she would have, if it had been five, ten years before, when survival was the only thing on her mind, when her own ends were the only ones that mattered. But things felt different, now. She felt herself brushing up against something, something bigger than herself. Some way to punch back at the dark underbelly of the city, at the men who had used her up and cast her aside, at the entire fucking way of life that had held her prisoner for all of hers. Elliot was a white knight, and maybe he was rubbing off on her. Maybe she'd always been an outlaw, and maybe part of her longed to find herself on the side of the angels, for once.

"If I leave before this is settled, I'll always be running," she said sadly. "I want to know no one's coming for me. And I want Wheatley to rot."

"I can't guarantee your safety," he advised her seriously, and a lump formed in the back of her throat, thinking about Noah. Was she being selfish, not running when she had the chance, risking making him an orphan again? Maybe she was. Maybe she'd always been a little selfish.

"I'll have Brian take Noah somewhere safe before it happens," she said, half to him and half to herself, thinking out loud. "There's tunnels, under the house. It's an old prohibition thing. We can sneak your cops in here."

"If we can have people inside the house, we'll be in a better position to protect you. But when it's over-"

"Just give me a head start," she said. "Just let me run, Elliot."

Wheatley was gonna know he'd been set up, but with his henchmen arrested and no access to his money and egg on his face he wouldn't be as much of a threat. She still didn't want to testify, though. Just this once she was willing to work for the good guys, but she didn't want anyone to know about it. As long as she never went on the record, it would all be rumors. Rumors, and innuendo, and the only person she'd betrayed would be Wheatley, and no one who mattered liked him, anyway. Her customers would see she'd kept their secrets, would have no reason to come after her. If she took the stand, though, Wheatley's attorney would have the chance to question her, and that was a risk she couldn't take.

"And then what?" he asked, his eyes sad and earnest. What would become of them both, when this was done? When Eddie Ashes was no more, when Kosta and Wheatley were behind bars, when Oak House was empty and Olivia Benson didn't exist any more? What would become of the madam, and the cop she loved? Where would their story end?

"I don't know," she said honestly. "But maybe…maybe one day you could come find me."

Maybe one day, when she wasn't the madam any more, when she was living a new life, a cleaner life, somewhere else, maybe one day when Elliot's steps weren't haunted by ghosts, when he didn't owe his life to the NYPD, maybe one day she'd open her door, and find him standing there. If life were a fairytale, that was how it would go, but life was not a fairytale, and dreams didn't come true, not for girls like her. Maybe it would be enough, to burn this house down - metaphorically speaking - to rise from the ashes like the phoenix tattooed on her back. Even if she never saw him again, he had still changed her. He would still be the one to set her free.

If they survived what was coming for them.