"You're kidding. You want me to let off a man guilty of two attempted murders?" Barba looked at them incredulously, and his eyes found Olivia's. "You're asking me to let a man who just tried to murder you walk out into the world?"
Olivia met his gaze with steel of her own. "I wouldn't ask if it were that simple."
"Isn't it, though?" Barba turned his attention to Elliot. "Tell me you're okay with this. After everything you said about being there for her, this is how you're going to do it? By letting her put herself in danger on your behalf?" The intensity of his disgust was overwhelming.
"Hey," Olivia interrupted. "Elliot and I are in this together. He'd do it for me in a heartbeat; besides, Gonzales was only targeting me because I was with him."
"Really?" Barba asked in disbelief before turning back to Elliot. "You don't think there's even the slightest chance this man might come after her when he gets out?"
Olivia threw her hands up in the air. "How many times do I have to tell you two that I can take care of myself? Mario just wants to go home and watch Game of Thrones. El, tell him."
And then they were both staring at him. Olivia expectantly, Barba looking on in disgusted disbelief, as if all of his worst suspicions were about to be confirmed. Elliot opened his mouth, about to side with his partner and work to secure his own safety as quickly as possible, but he was stopped by a prickle of discomfort. A nagging feeling that he was placing Olivia in harm's way to save his own skin. He looked up, meeting her eyes as she sensed his hesitation.
"El," she said, hurt. "Gonzales is our only link to your attacker." I need you here, she seemed to be saying with her eyes. You don't get to leave me again.
That's not fair, he tried to tell her back. I need you safe.
"Jesus," Barba interrupted their silent conversation, exasperated. "How do the two of you ever get anything done when you're both so busy trying to take the others' bullet?"
Elliot scoffed, irritated. "Can you give us a minute?"
Barba looked at him, incredulous. "This is my office!" They both stared at him with matching expressions about as unyielding as concrete. "Fine! Fine. But I am not letting this man back into the world." Olivia glared at him as he left. When the door closed, she couldn't seem to meet his eyes.
Elliot crossed the space between them in a moment and crouched down in front of her, taking her hand. "Liv." She still wasn't looking at him. "Liv, look at me." When at last she raised her eyes up to meet his, he saw confusion and hurt and betrayal. All because he didn't want to let her get herself killed on his behalf.
He shut his eyes for a brief moment before returning her gaze. "If the positions were reversed, would you let me do this for you? With a kid at home?" She hesitated before looking away, unwilling to answer. "You've always put me first," he said softly. "But I can't let you do this for me. Maybe Gonzales doesn't care whether you live or not...But maybe he does. And I care too much about you to take a risk like that. We have to find another way."
She blew out a slow breath, meeting his eyes again. "I just don't think I could stand losing you again."
He was unable to look away from the reflective, dark brown of her eyes. In this moment, he felt he could see her soul. It was one of those unbelievably rare moments; Olivia, unguarded. It was one of those moments that made him fall in so deep he couldn't imagine ever getting out. He found his voice again. "Then you know how I would feel if I ever lost you. I honestly don't think I could bear it, Liv. I don't think I would survive it."
She blinked at him, confused, eyes shining with a mess of emotion. After a moment, she looked away, breaking the tension with a slight laugh. "Maybe Barba was right about us and bullets."
He smiled gently at her, brushing a tear from her cheek and kissing the top of her head as he got to his feet. "Come on, let's get Barba. If we put our heads together, maybe we can figure something out. A way to save everyone."
He found the lawyer sipping coffee on a bench in the hallway. "Oh, are you done?" His eyes were harsh, but he blinked and sighed after a moment. "Sorry. Long day. But I have an idea that might get you the best of both worlds; you'll have to hurry, though."
Thirty minutes later, they were rushing up the stairs of an apartment complex in East Harlem to the last known address of Mario Gonzales. They were looking for anything incriminating; they would give Gonzales a deal on their attempted murders, get what they needed, and then re-arrest him for something else to make sure he never got out. They easily convinced a neighbor to let them in after Olivia flashed her badge, and saw immediately that the insides of the apartment were strikingly at odds with the outsides. He had hardly expected the door to open without falling off its hinges, but inside were flat-screen TV's, leather recliners, and gaming consoles; Elliot's own place hadn't been so nicely furnished.
"Being a hitman pays," Olivia noted as she began sifting through his mail. He nodded mutely, looking around as he started the search for a gun safe. In the back room, he spotted a computer and logged in, guessing the password on three tries; 'password123.' Dumbass.
He opened the internet browser, and the computer automatically logged him into Gmail.
"Liv," he called. "Liv, come look at this!" She came into the room as Elliot pored over emails. He could hardly believe what he was seeing–in Mario's account were dozens of exchanges between himself and his customers–dozens of murders arranged and paid for. They even had the records from his account. "He took no precautions at all. We've got him dead to rights on at least fifty murders. What kind of idiot just leaves this stuff open?" He shook his head in disgust, and started to dial CSU.
"Wait a sec," Olivia said suddenly, and took the keyboard. She swiftly typed "Elliot Stabler" into the mail search box, and held her breath as she hit 'enter.' There were four recent emails, and four older ones.
Subject: Not dead.
To: dirtywork50
From: anon24798
He's not dead. I thought you killed him.
…
Subject: RE: Not dead.
To: anon24798
From: dirtywork50
Woah, woah, wait. Who are we talking about, here? I think I'm pretty good at my job.
…
Subject: RE: Not dead.
To: dirtywork50
From: anon24798
Elliot Stabler. I paid you to kill him four years ago, and guess who isn't dead? Elliot Stabler. Either reimburse me the 20k and take both him and his partner out or I will turn you in to the authorities.
You have 48 hours.
…
Subject: RE: Not dead.
To: anon24798
From: dirtywork50
I'll get it done, but I'm keeping the cash. Unless you want me to turn you in, Detective.
...
Detective? Elliot's chest constricted painfully. This was all coming from someone inside the force? He clicked on the older email chain.
...
To: dirtywork50
From: anon24798
Subject: A Job
I have a job offer. Are you interested?
…
To: anon24798
From: dirtywork50
Subject: RE: A Job
Always. Who's the target?
…
To: dirtywork50
From: anon24798
Subject: RE: A Job
Elliot Stabler, detective in the NYPD. Can you meet?
…
To: anon24798
From: dirtywork50
Subject: RE: A Job
Central Park, by the Central Buzz Coffee Cart on the East side, tomorrow at noon. I'll be wearing a blue camo hoodie. Don't be late.
...
"Damn," she said softly. "God damn. Detective? Who the hell is this?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. But you know what? CSU might be able to figure it out. We got this guy, Liv."
"Yeah," she agreed breathlessly. "Yeah, we do."