-click-

"Stabler, Benson, I'd like you to meet our newest addition to our already glorious team. Det. Sandra Hanson."

Elliot and Olivia respectively shook the young woman's hand, trying to forgo her extremely youthful looks. She smiled up at them, brushing a strand of auburn hair away from her forehead as she stepped back next to Cragen.

"Nice to meet you," she claimed, her voice strong and confident. She grinned, "I can't wait to get this show on the road and catch this creep."

Elliot and Olivia smiled and looked at one another. "You'll fit in just fine," Elliot stated with a friendly wink.

Cragen clapped Elliot on the shoulder, "Show her the ropes, brief her on the op and," he turned to face Sandra, "Whatever you do, avoid the coffee."

Sandra laughed and thanked him. When he left the trio standing alone, she turned to the defectives and shrugged, "Nice guy."

"Yeah," Olivia sighed.

"Our father, the Don." Elliot joked before scrunching his face, "Lets go upstairs, we can brief you on our newest perv."

"Joy," the young looking woman put in as she began climbing the stairs.

Elliot turned to face Olivia, a hand on the banister to support his weight. "Oh yeah, just fine."

A few minutes later, Elliot, Olivia and Sandra were gazing down at black and white photos of different people and places. Elliot pointed to the one closest to his propped elbow.

"Our perp, Buck Westley. Your average American: fat, poor and lazy. He's forty-two years old, and fancies himself the, the uh...what was it Liv?"

Olivia rolled her eyes upward, as if concentrating. "Oh, I think it was 'the King of all Little Princesses.'"

"Sick," muttered Sandra as Elliot nodded in agreement.

"Yeah," he agreed before pointing to another picture. The black and white photo was one of a young teen, dark haired pulled back and youthful face beaten to a darker shade. "Ashley Wilkinson, Princess number five, we believe."

"The other four...?"

"Dead." Olivia spoke up.

"We believe this guy, Buck, goes after the young little girls...dark hair, Caucasian." Elliot continued, pointing to various pictures of girls, all autopsy photos.

"And that's where I come in."

Elliot and Olivia looked over at one another as Elliot half-asked, half stated, "If you're ready..."

"Oh yeah," she grinned, "Always."

-click-

"So Detective Hanson was to be used as bait?" Not a serious question.

Squint of eyes. Arms folded over chest.

"Yeah, that's what I just said." Leans forward quickly. "But Westley had an Ace up his sleeve...he had a partner...we didn't know." Leans back. Pitiful look. "We didn't know."

Whir.

-click-

"I then proceed to tell her the type of girls Buck goes after-"

"And? What type is that?"

"It's on file, look it up."

"Tell us. Enlighten us."

Audible snort. "Young. Little girls. Bright eyed and bushy tailed kids with brown hair and their whole lives ahead of them."

"Race?"

"Caucasian...all of 'em."

-click-

"So, this man, Buck Westley, likes the kiddies?"

Almost inaudible growl. "You just heard me say it."

The male looks over at the female. She leans forward slightly. Slightly.

Whir.

-click-

"Tell us, Detective, of the events that happened on-"

"March 6th? Of this year?" Interruption. Again. It gets old, but so does the repeated questions. Leans back mockingly. "The day of our fuckin' operation?"

"Yes. Tell us what happened."

Another deep sigh, "We-"

"Who."

"Detectives Benson, Hanson and I."

"Continue."

"We placed our decoy, Hanson..."

"Near Amsterdam Ave. at 110th St." Elliot muttered into his hand, where a small microphone had been placed close to his wrist.

Elliot surveyed his surroundings, noting Benson sitting on a bench nearby and Hanson casually walking down the sidewalk. She paused to admire something in a window, when Elliot had caught sight of Buck coming from the opposite direction. "He's coming near the decoy now," there was a brief pause before Elliot added, "Standing next to her. Stand down until he makes a move."

"El..." it was Olivia's voice. He looked up to see her watching the pair across the street. Buck seemed to be talking to Hanson, making her laugh. However, from her extremely worried and scared expression, Elliot felt like this wasn't connected.

"Stand down," he repeated anyway, rubbing his hands together in an effort to keep himself warm.

"Elliot, shit..." Olivia leaped off the bench and walked towards him, her head down and away from passersby on the opposite side of the street. Brushing by Elliot, she muttered, "Tall male, Caucasian, balding, wearing glasses...previous undercover case. He could easily make me."

Elliot scanned the streets and sidewalks, lips parted slightly. He expelled some white air, shivering, as he struggled to find the man Olivia was talking about and keep an eye on Hanson. "Where, Liv?"

She stood on the corner of the street they both occupied, whispering into her own mic, "Close to Buck and Hanson. He can't see me, Elliot. Look, watch after Hanson, I'll circle the block and come around. He should be gone by then."

Elliot shook his head, confused and cold. "Wha-?"

"Cynthia?" a male's voice called out, surprised.

"Oh shit, Elliot. Watch Hanson. Watch Hanson." she muttered, turning to face the male, who was striding across the street to see her. She plastered a large, goofy grin on her face and exclaimed, "Mark? Mark Greene it is you!" in a overly cheerful tone, an accent from the south evident.

Elliot watched the two hug and kiss each other on the cheek. He proceeded to watch out of the corner of his eyes, listening as Olivia asked, "What brings you down to big, bad New York City!"

Mark's initial smile diminished slightly. He shuffled his two feet and looked at the ground, adjusting his glasses. "I've been sick, came up here to see a Doctor."

"A doctor! Oh, physician heal thyself," she cried jokingly.

Mark laughed along, although it sounded forced to Elliot's ears. "Yeah, so, uh, what are you doing here? I mean, in New York."

"Little ol' me? I was up here visiting some friends, you know, taking a holiday. Admiring the people here; they sure are different than Chicago!"

A soft chuckle, "They sure are."

Elliot jerked suddenly. People...admiring...he scanned the opposite street. Gone. Hanson and Buck were gone.

-click-

"Gone?"

Sip of steaming coffee. Grimace, exaggerated. "Yeah. I wasn't paying attention. I was so caught up with what they were saying that I hadn't seen the two leave."

Exchange of looks. Female pipes up, "You didn't see them leave because you were caught up in your partners affairs?"

Rolling of eyes. Pushes coffee away, but keeps one hand wrapped around firmly. For warmth? Comfort? "I know what you're thinking, but we've cleared this up already. That's largely why I'm here now..."

"What is?" Innocent. Lie. Liars.

Sigh. Again. "If it wasn't for Hanson's captain making those false accusations against me, none of this would have happened."

Whir.

-click-

"But Hanson would still be dead; Greene still dead." Pointing out the facts, the cold hard truth. Good for them.

Sagging shoulders, reluctant nod. "Murder, tumor. I only feel at fault for one."

"Whose?"

"Hanson's. It was my fault. I admit it, I've been admitting it. Everyone tells me, "No, it's not, it would have happened anyway." But I know," taps temple a bit too forcefully, "I know."

"Know...?"

"That if I hadn't got so caught up with Liv's problem, that I would have paid attention and we wouldn't have lost contact with Hanson till-" stops short, shuddering breath.

"Till...?" Pricks, never finish a sentence. They know. Everyone knows.

"Till her death."

Silence.

-click-

Whir.

-click-

Pushes cup of coffee away. "Can I get another cup? This tastes like shit."

-click-


TBC...

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