Thanks so much to all of you for your wonderful comments. If I wasn't such a ridiculously busy pre med student I def would respond to each of you individually, but unfortunately, it's hard enough to find time to write. But I really do appreciate all of the feedback.
He called Fin into his office the next day.
"Don't tell me Cap, they denied my transfer"
Don smiled, "we went over that already."
"right. So why am I here?"
"What happened in that basement?"
"You got the report," Fin's body had gone rigid, his eyes hard, his fists clenched.
"And I read it. But Benson isn't dealing and either you tell me what happened or you take care of it yourself, cause I will not be picking up my detective at The Velvet Room again, and I will not see her the way she was last night ever again. Your choice, detective."
Cragen watched as Tutuola turned, saw Olivia's empty chair, and bolted, grunting "cover me" to Munch as he grabbed his jacket off his chair, and ran out the door.
There were few things in the world that called back the urge to drink, but then, he had always had a soft spot for Olivia, a hidden guilt for partnering her with a man who, though she loved dearly, could break her to pieces for a misplaced word. And now this. Fin wasn't talking, she wasn't talking, hell, she was imploding. He felt as if he were watching his squad slowly unravel at the shaking hands of Olivia, her giant eyes, her trembling lips.
He hopes to god that Fin can get through to her, or that Elliot pulls his head out of his ass, or that someone, somewhere, from out of work, cares for Olivia and can get to her. Because he doesn't think he can, he doesn't think he should. She would bring them both down and then it would all fall to hell. But he wants to. He wants to so badly he thinks he could just lay into a bottle of Jack and finish the job.