Fourteen Weeks

He lets her into his apartment and she follows his eyes straight to her abdomen. Now that she's unambiguously showing, she's trying to get used to people looking there.

"It's good to see you," he says warmly, and gestures for her to have a seat on the couch. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm all right," she nods. "Better than a few weeks ago."

"And the baby?"

"Baby's fine. Thank God." Her fingers unconsciously travel to her stomach as if to reassure herself the bump is still there.

She observes the boxes scattered about the apartment. "You're moving?"

"Yeah," he sighs, looking around at the mess. "I'm going back to DC. This was just a temporary place I was set up with while I was on assignment. But now that I'm done…" his voice trails off.

She nods.

"Yeah…" he continues uncomfortably. He clears his throat. "So, uh, we never talked about… I mean, you were in the hospital and I've been working your case twenty-four seven and –"

"Any leads?"

"None so far," he admits. "Please, have a seat." He gestures towards the couch.

"Thanks." Normally she would remain standing, to face him as an equal. But this pregnancy has brought with it a fatigue against which her pride is powerless.

He takes a seat next to her. "Look, Olivia, I know we didn't plan this, but I want you to know I intend to request a permanent transfer to New York so I can be here for you and support –"

She takes a deep breath and tells him what she came here to tell him. "The baby's Elliot's, Dean. I'm so… I'm so sorry."

His face instantly changes and she can see he's trying to keep his reaction intact. "Figures, you were sleeping with your partner." He attempts a sneer, but the hurt in his voice is transparent. "I should've guessed."

"I wasn't sleeping with him." She knows he won't believe her and that's fine; she just wants to say her piece and go home.

"So what, this was the immaculate conception?" he says sarcastically.

She blushes. "No, what I meant was, it only happened once. Anyway, look, I'm not trying to justify it or myself or… I just came here to tell you that I'm sorry. And to thank you, for helping to find us. I know you busted your tail trying to find us and I appreciate that."

"You're welcome," he replies evenly.

"Would you… really have wanted the baby to be yours?" she asks curiously.

"Like you said, Olivia, we probably wouldn't have worked out. I'm glad for you. And for your partner. You will make good parents."

"Thank you. Thank you for saying that. It means a lot to me," she tells him sincerely.

"Do you want some tea?" he asks politely. "It's herbal."

"I should probably… probably get going."

His cell phone, which is lying on the coffee table in front of them, lights up. For a split second before he snatches it up and answers it, it illuminates a photo of a girl on its screen. The girl is dark-haired and looks to be in her early twenties.

She waits for him to end his conversation. "Who's the girl on your phone?" Olivia asks.

"My niece," he answers.

"Oh. I didn't know you had one. Where does she live?"

"DC."

"You stalking her?" she jokes.

"What?"

"Looks like she doesn't know there's a camera in her face." She points to the phone, alluding to the unsuspecting expression on the girl's face.

"Nah. She was up here on a visit and she hates being photographed. So I just snapped it when she wasn't looking." He shrugs and puts the phone in his pocket.

Olivia nods politely, her mind wandering. She will be skipping nieces and nephews, she muses to herself, and going straight to having a child of her own. It's a heart-warming, delicious thought, and she has to suppress a smile; she's not in the mood to explain her reverie to Dean.

She musters to get up from the couch. "I'll see you, Dean. And again, I'm sorry about what happened."

"Don't mention it, Olivia. I'm just glad you're okay. Call me sometime, okay?"

"I will." She smiles tightly. She won't call him, and both of them know it, but that's fine.

She lets herself out, and gets in the elevator, Dean's niece still on her mind.

At the exact moment when the elevator doors snap closed, Olivia realizes something.

She's seen the girl before.

x-x-x-x-x-x

Cragen sighs with resignation as he watches the familiar face traipse into the squad room. "What're you doing here, Elliot?"

"Thought I'd stop in," Elliot replies innocently.

"You take Olivia home?"

"This morning."

"How's she doing?"

"Needs plenty of rest, fluids and calories, but otherwise she's okay. Thank God."

"So I'll repeat then – what're you doing here?"

Elliot pretends to look puzzled. "I'm here… to work."

"You're not staying with her?"

Elliot's face turns red. "Well I… I thought…"

Cragen can't suppress a laugh. "You think I'm an idiot? I think the cat's out of the bag with you two."

"Okay," he stammers, not sure how to respond.

"Go be with her."

"But… what about… "

"The partnership?"

"Well, yeah."

"Seems to me Olivia should be part of that conversation, don't you think?"

"Yes."

Cragen lays a hand on his shoulder. "You've been through hell. Take some time off."

"Is that an order?"

"Yes."

"But I want to figure out what happened to us," he whines.

"That's for us to do," Cragen asserts. "Your partner needs you. She's had it rougher than you. She needs support right now. That's all that should matter."

Reluctantly, Elliot agrees. "Thanks, Captain."

As his detective turns to go, Cragen realizes he meant to ask him something . "Elliot, wait."

"Yeah?"

"Remind me again when it was they started taking Olivia to give her food?"

Elliot furrows his brows and thinks. "Eleven days in. Why?"

Cragen frowns. "No reason. Go home."

After Elliot's gone, Cragen pulls out his calendar and counts to eleven.

And then his eyes widen in disbelief.

x-x-x-x-x-x

When Olivia gets home from Porter's, she gets on her computer and conducts a search.

Then she gathers some things, and heads back out.

x-x-x-x-x-x

"Elliot!" Cragen calls, having rushed outside to find his detective still on the sidewalk outside the precinct, about to get into his car.

Elliot turns his head.

"Where's Olivia right now?" Cragen asks.

Elliot comes back to the stoop, where Cragen is standing. "At home. Why?"

"Call her."

"What?"

Cragen clucks his tongue impatiently. "Call her."

Elliot pulls out his phone. "Actually, there's a text from her."

"And?"

Elliot is curious as to why Cragen is so interested in this.

"It just says she went to Porter's and to… " He crinkles his brow. "Okay, this is weird, it says to meet her there."

"Get in my car and call her," Cragen barks. "And not in that order."

x-x-x-x-x-x

"Olivia?" he says with surprise, as he opens the door to her for the second time in several hours. "Did you forget something here?"

"The girl on your cell phone," she says. "She's not your niece, is she?"

Porter's expression remains neutral. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't have any siblings. I checked."

Porter is quiet; Olivia monitors his facial reaction. Beneath his aloof exterior, he is rattled. She can tell.

"I knew I recognized her," she continues casually, stepping fully inside the apartment. "She's the supposed sister of Jeffrey Da Silva. He lured us into that alley on the pretense that his sister was passed out. That's the girl whose photo is in your cell phone."

Porter doesn't respond.

"All I want to know is why. Why Dean?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do."

He pauses, his eyes never leaving her. He is assessing, calculating, judging the situation.

And then he tells her. "You were getting too close to breaking the case."

"What?" She's genuinely shocked. "You? You were the head of that kiddie porn ring?"

"Not the head."

"So, what then? Were you receiving kickbacks? To make sure the FBI stayed off its scent?"

Dean is silent and all at once Olivia knows she has hit the nail on the head.

"I can't believe this," she whispers.

"It's not what you think," he says lamely.

"It's not what I think?" She laughs, incredulous. "You must've made millions off that porn," she accuses.

"I didn't make millions Olivia," he snorts.

"You made enough that you didn't care that children were being exploited," she huffs.

"Oh get off your fucking high horse," he sneers. He takes a small step towards her.

"You did this," she murmurs, more to herself, as the full extent of the situation washes over her. "You set the whole thing up. You had us kidnapped. All to protect yourself…"

"I knew that your squad would stop investigating once you and your partner went missing. That's all I wanted. Was for you and him to be gone for a bit until all of it blew over."

"You bastard! We could've died in there."

"They were instructed to feed you and treat you well," he says, like this ought to mollify her.

"Treat us well?" she huffs, " Ha! They kept us locked in a basement for days. They fed us candy bars, probably from some vending machine."

He has the decency to look contrite. "I didn't know you were pregnant. Once I found out, I made sure they fed you well."

"Yeah, only because you thought it was your baby. You didn't care about me."

"That's not true!" he protests.

"You risked my life, Dean. What if those guys had hurt us? You were taking it on faith that they'd follow your instructions."

For the first time in the conversation, Porter lets down his guard and visibly flinches. "Olivia, did they… did one of them…"

She notes the quiver in his voice, how his Adam's apple bobbles as he leaves the question dangling. He is unsure of what they did to her, which means he hardly vetted them at all. Suddenly it hits her just how lucky she got. "No. No, they didn't. But they could have. And do you know what that would've done to me? Do you have any clue?"

"I'm sorry," he repeats, and she believes that he genuinely is.

"One question, Dean. Why didn't you just have us killed right away?"

He pretends to be shocked, scandalized by her question, but she knows that he is not. Whatever he did, he thought through carefully. "It would've been too suspicious. Also, I couldn't…" He lets it trail off.

"They were going to kill us eventually though, weren't they?" she presses.

"Olivia – "

"Come on, Dean, don't deny it. There was no way they could've kept us alive. We could identify them. You found out I was pregnant and you thought it was yours and so you had to improvise, and so you killed them."

"No, my plan was to kill them all along. I didn't want to kill you. I just wanted you gone… long enough that everyone would forget about the kiddie porn case."

"But you would've had to kill us," she insists.

"No, I was going to kill them."

"Bullshit! You only did it when you found out I was pregnant!"

"No! No, I just… accelerated the process."

"So, what? You were gonna leave us in there for what, a month?"

"Just for a few weeks. Until the case blew over and I was sure your squad was no longer interested. I learned from the last one, you guys are very…. persistent. I never meant to hurt you."

"You never meant to? Are you kidding me?" she laughs. "We almost died in there."

"I never thought you'd get sick like that. I'm so sorry, Olivia."

"Forget about getting sick! We were stuck in a basement cell eating candy bars for a week. Those guys pointed our own guns at our heads."

"I know," he nods. "But I knew you two were tough. And like I said, they were instructed not to hurt –"

"They were instructed. They were instructed," she scoffs. "You keep saying that. But who exactly was going to stop them if they did? You?"

He's silent.

She looks up at him, her head cocked with genuine curiosity. "How did you expect to get away with this?"

"Olivia," he says calmly, "is there any special reason why you think I don't intend to?"

And with that, he pulls out his service revolver and points it at her.