The second the phone rang, Mack knew she was fucked.
"You promised," Anna accused, her pretty pouty lip trembling as if she were already working herself up to the point of tears.
"It might be nothing," Mack said, but it wasn't nothing, and she knew it, and so did Anna. The phone was ringing, the name Bell lighting up the screen bright enough for even Anna to see, and there was no way the Sarge was calling Mack at 10:00 a.m. on her first day off after six months of undercover work just to shoot the shit.
Something was wrong.
"Hey, Sarge," Mack said, answering the phone and trying to avoid her girlfriend's petulant stare.
"We got trouble," Bell said darkly.
The case had been closed for a day. How could there be trouble already?
"Our informant is in the wind. Took off from the safe house early this morning. We gotta find him, I need all hands on deck for this."
"You got it, Sarge." It was the only answer Mack could give. Bell was her boss, and Mack was new to the squad - well, new-ish - and she was in no position to be disobeying orders. The rest of the team barely tolerated her as it was; they were all still reeling from Whalen's death, and unwilling to get too close to her, maybe because they resented her, maybe because they were afraid to care about her, afraid she was gonna die, too. Whatever the reason, the result was the same. And they'd all be fucked if the Italians found Tony before the OCCB team did. Tony was a squirrelly, antsy motherfucker, and he was their best bet at putting the entire crew behind bars. The trial was still months out, and without Tony's testimony the whole thing might fall apart before it ever even started. Six months of work down the drain, just like that, and all of OCCB with a target on their backs.
"You're gonna have to make a pit stop," Bell continued. "Your partner's not answering his phone. I need you to get him."
"You want me to go out to Long Island City?" Mack asked incredulously. "That's not exactly on the way, Sarge."
And he won't be happy to see me.
"Someone's gotta track him down. You've still got the key I gave you?"
"Yeah."
She did, somewhere. Towards the end of the op things had gotten hairy; Mack's cover was blown and she couldn't go back under, and Bell had made the difficult decision to join Mack's partner on their last push to capture the Italians. Tensions were running high, and there was every chance the whole team had been made, every chance that Bell and Mack's partner were walking to their deaths. The key to his place, Bell had said solemnly when she handed it over. Just…just in case we don't come back.
The words had chilled Mack to the bone, but that nightmare had not come to be; everyone had come home safe, and their marks were behind bars. For now. That was gonna change, and soon, if they couldn't locate Tony.
"Get down there. If no one answers the door, use the key, go inside. Call it a wellness check."
"Will do," Mack said, though her heart was sinking. He'd fucking kill her if he caught her using the key to let herself into his apartment. He didn't like her very much as it was - not that she could blame him, Mack didn't like her new partner much, either. The op hadn't exactly brought out the best in either of them - undercover work rarely did - and she'd been looking forward to having the next few days off work with a grateful desperation, eager to get away from him, to get away from the guns and the fear, eager to spend all her time in bed, wrapped up in Anna's arms. That dream was over now; she was wide awake, and looking for her shoes.
"Call me when you have him," Bell said.
"You got it, boss."
Bell didn't bother to say good-bye; she just hung up, and left Mack alone with Anna, Anna who was naked and staring at her reproachfully from the rumpled sheets of their bed, a bed Mack had not slept in for half a year.
"One of these days," Anna said darkly, "you're gonna have to decide where you want to be."
Maybe Anna was right. Mack couldn't keep doing this, couldn't keep putting her life on hold for the job; the juggling act was tearing her in half. It felt impossible, just now, to have both, a real life and her career with the NYPD. There weren't enough hours in the day, and Mack couldn't be in two places at once, and the two women in her life - Anna and Bell - demanded all of her time, all of her attention, and it was not possible to be faithful to both of them. One of them would always have less of her than the other. And Anna wouldn't wait for her forever.
"I love you," Mack said, leaning over to kiss Anna's soft lips. "I do, baby. I love you more than anything. I want to be here. And I will be. There's just something else I gotta do first."
"Go do it, then," Anna said sadly.
For all her disappointment and complaining Anna did make Mack a cup of coffee for the road. Not like it was a lot of effort, putting a pod in the Keurig and filling a travel mug, but she did it just the same, and Mack sipped that coffee as she drove across town, calling her partner's cell every five minutes from the car's bluetooth. If he'd just pick up the damn phone she wouldn't have to waste her time on this stupid errand, could turn around and go straight to headquarters to help in the search, but it was no good. Wherever the motherfucker was, he wasn't paying any damn attention to his phone, and Mack had no choice but to keep driving towards Long Island City, away from her bed, away from headquarters, away from the search. The sun was shining and traffic wasn't too bad, for a Saturday morning, and Mack made good time, swearing all the way. The Sarge had texted her the address, but when she arrived she checked it, and checked it again, surprised by what she found.
It wasn't the sort of place she expected him to live. The building was one of those converted warehouses, heavy brick and wood and iron, renovated into chic apartments that probably cost four times as much as the one bedroom Mack shared with Anna. According to the text her partner lived in a first floor unit, and from the ground Mack could see that those apartments all had little patios, tucked away behind high fences. She parked the car on the curb with an NYPD placard hanging from the rearview in an effort to avoid getting a ticket, and then made her way across the sidewalk to the building.
He had a corner unit, and from the outside it looked like one of the bigger ones. That made sense, she figured; there was a picture of his wife on his desk at headquarters, and she'd heard someone say something about him having kids, once. She wasn't sure how many, or how old they were; he was going bald and his grim face was weathered and worn from the years, he had to be pushing sixty. Fit for his age, though; the bastard was thick, heavy with muscle, his chest hard as a rock to the touch, and he'd complained about missing the gym while they were under, spent his downtime doing push ups and shit like that, working out on the floor. At first Mack thought that was just showing off, but she'd come to understand it was how he managed his temper. He had to get all that anger out somewhere, and it was better for her if the floor took the brunt of it, instead of Mack herself.
At the door she drew in a deep breath, and then knocked, hard, banged on it, really, pounded her fist against the metal door until her hand ached, and then waited for an answer. Maybe it would be his wife; shit, Mack really hoped his wife would be the one to answer. Mack didn't know much - didn't know anything, really - about her partner's mysterious wife, but in the photograph the woman had seemed nice enough. Slim and pretty, blonde and of an age with her husband, nice smile. The old man must have loved her, Mack thought, since that photo was the only sentimental item on his desk, and maybe that love for his wife would keep him from lashing out at Mack when she came barging in to ruin his quiet Saturday.
Maybe they're not home, she thought as she stood there on the doorstep. There was no sound of footsteps from inside, no sign of life. The door was heavy, though, and the walls were brick; maybe the noise was just muffled. But at 11 on a Saturday, they could have been anywhere, out to brunch, buying groceries, hanging out with their kids, hell, maybe even catching an early movie. All perfectly reasonable excuses for not answering the phone.
But Bell was worried about him, and that made Mack worry, too. What if his cover had been blown? What if the Italians had found out his real name, sent goons after him and his pretty wife? What if they were bleeding out inside the apartment right now, and Mack was dithering by the door?
She knocked one more time, gave it just a few minutes more, and then she fished the key out of her pocket.
Bell told you to, she reminded herself as she unlocked the door. If he gets pissed, you just tell him it's Bell's fault.
With the door unlocked she pocketed the key and then drew her gun from its holster at her hip. She turned the knob slowly, slowly, eased the door open as quietly as she could, and then stepped inside.
This can't be the right place, she thought.
Her partner wasn't exactly cool. He got TikTok and Snapchat confused, and he complained any time Mack played music recorded after about 1985. He was shit with computers and he couldn't tell the difference between Golden Goose and Converse. They both got stars on 'em, don't they? That's what he'd say. So how the fuck did a guy like that end up in a place like this?
The living area was open, the wood floors and brick walls warm and inviting. Metal beams crossed overhead, the overall effect winsome and tastefully rustic, so much so that Mack half-expected to find strings of Eddison bulbs glittering over the table. The kitchen alone had her convinced the rent on this place had to have been more money than she took home in a month. Leather sofa, vibrant blankets, bookshelves littered with well-thumbed paperbacks and picture frames and knicknacks, and the rug must have cost him five grand easy, a strange choice for a man who pulled a face when she suggested sushi for dinner and always picked the grimiest diners for breakfast.
His wife must have picked it, she thought.
The lights were all off, and Mack took a moment to get her bearings, trying to figure out where the bedrooms were. There was a frosted glass wall, maybe with a bathroom behind it, and a little corridor off to the side, and she started to venture there when she heard a loud, desperate cry, the ragged plea of someone in pain. It came from somewhere near the bathroom, and made her blood run cold. She dropped into a crouch, and found what she was looking for, an open door that might have led to a bedroom. Maybe they were in there even now, her partner and his wife, and maybe someone was hurting them.
A loud groan followed, and then a crash and the tinkling sound of shattering glass, and Mack ran, then, ran with gun outstretched and her heart in her throat, ran headlong into danger because she might not have liked him but the old man was her partner, and it was her job to keep him safe. She ran to the doorway and peered inside, and immediately, desperately wished she hadn't.
No one was getting hurt in there. The cry sounded again, throaty and rich, and Mack realized her mistake even as she stared in open mouthed horror at the sight before her.
The doorway led to a bedroom, as she'd suspected. The lights were off there, too, but the sun was high in the sky and bathed the room in a gentle glow. Mack didn't see much of it, just the shattered remains of a pair of wine glasses on the floor by a bedside table, just the bed, the navy coverlet and smooth white sheets twisted together near the foot of it, and the people twisted together in the center of it.
It was him, Stabler, sitting upright on the bed. He was facing the headboard, his back - mercifully - facing Mack, so that she could not see his face, nor he hers. He was completely naked, the heavy muscles of his body contorting with effort, his tan, scarred skin shiny beneath a sparkling layer of sweat. On his lap there perched a woman, her arms around his neck, her soft thighs bracketing his hips, and they were rocking together, the pair of them, grinding and thrusting and bouncing into one another. They were fucking, and he must have done something that she liked because the woman moaned again, long and loud, and threw her head back on her shoulders. Threw her head back, and as she did her hair fell away from her face to flow in a river down her back, dark and thick and curling softly. That face; Christ, she was pretty. Soft lips, proud jaw, her throat elegantly arched as she gave voice to her pleasure.
Beneath her Stabler let out a sound that was almost a growl and pitched suddenly forward, hard and fast, laid the dark-haired woman out on her back and began to rut furiously into her, the headboard banging loudly off the wall while his woman whimpered and moaned and clutched at him, and Mack jerked herself away from the door, blushing furiously.
All told she had been looking inside for no more than two seconds, but she had a damn near photographic memory - a handy skill, for a cop - and that memory was especially sharp when it came to pretty women, and the shape of Stabler's woman burned through her brain, the vision of her sparkling behind Mack's eyelids every time she blinked.
What the fuck do I now? She thought, leaning back against the wall, out of the lovers' line of sight. Stabler would probably lose his goddamn mind if she called out and interrupted him now, and it felt a little mean, leaving the pair of them unsatisfied.
Maybe I can just wait until they finish?
The thumps and groans coming from inside the bedroom told her that probably wasn't too far off; it sounded, she thought, like they were in the homestretch. Neither of them was young anymore, and there was no telling how long they'd been going at it already; how much longer could it take, really?
It was awkward as all hell, though, standing there just listening to Stabler getting laid, so she drifted slowly away from the door. There were bookshelves in the corner, and she made her way there, determined to focus on the books and the pictures and not on the sounds coming out of Stabler's bedroom. Easier said than done; it sounded like Stabler had himself a screamer.
It can't be that good, can it? Mack wondered, wincing as the woman let out a particularly loud moan. Maybe it was, though. Maybe Stabler had a really big -
Nope! She told herself firmly, giving her head a little shake for emphasis. No, she was not going to think about Stabler's dick.
Her eyes landed desperately on a set of three photographs on the bookshelves, right at eye level. The pictures were all in matching wooden frames, and she studied them, fighting the urge to stick her fingers in her ears. The photo on the left was of five people, young people, who seemed to range in age from late thirties to late teens. Three pretty blonde women who favored one another enough to be sisters, a dark haired man, heavier set than the girls but whose face reminded Mack of Stabler's, just a little. The fifth was the teenager, a tall, lanky boy with long, dark hair like his brother's.
That has to be the kids, she thought, and then, Jesus, there's five of them?
It surprised her, but in a way it made sense; she was pretty sure Stabler was religious, given the cross he wore on a chain around his neck, the tattoo on his arm. Catholic, maybe, and not one to go in for birth control. The photo on the right was two little boys, maybe five years old, who looked like identical twins, wearing matching plaid button down shirts. They were cute. Grandkids, maybe? The four older kids, they looked old enough to have children themselves.
But it was the photo in the middle that drew her attention and held it. Stabler, in a nice blue suit, with his arm around a woman, smiling. It was the same pretty blonde from the photo on his desk, and she was smiling, too, leaning into him, looking up at him with something like adoration in her expression. The girls looked like her; she had to be their mother.
But the woman in Stabler's bed looked nothing like her. Mack had only gotten a quick glimpse, but it was enough. The hair was different, not just the color of it but the thickness, the texture. Her body was different, too; Stabler's wife was slender, and the woman in his bed was all curves, her body lush and soft, and her tits…
Yeah. Not the same woman.
What the fuck?
Behind her the cries reached a crescendo, and then the bed stopped bouncing off the wall, and everything went real, real quiet.
Mack didn't move, barely even breathed. Her eyes flickered over the other photos in the room; more of Stabler's blonde wife, and not a single image of his brunette lover. Sure, maybe he was separated, or divorced, or something, but he still wore his wedding ring - when he wasn't undercover - and surely he wouldn't have kept pictures of his ex-wife on his desk, all around his home, not when he had another woman to hold. Jet had told her the blonde woman was his wife, when Jet caught Mack staring at the picture. Stabler was married, and he was fucking around.
No wonder he didn't want to answer his phone.
It made her hate him, just a little. What kind of a prick could do something like that, leave his wife and kids alone for six long months, and then fuck someone else as soon as he got back? The older kids were grown but the teenager looked young enough to still be in high school, maybe; where was he? Out at a soccer game, or something, while his mom cheered him from the sidelines and his dad fucked someone else at home?
The time had come for Mack to make her presence known, and she didn't feel guilty about interrupting them, anymore. She was wishing now that she'd done it sooner. The bastard didn't deserve the satisfaction of his release.
"Hey, yo, Stabler!" she yelled as loud as she could, stomping her feet to imitate the sound of her walking across the living room.
"Shit."
"Fuck."
She heard the pair of them swear in unison from inside the room.
"Stay out there!" Stabler bellowed. "I'm coming!"
I thought you just did, Mack thought grumpily.
From inside the bedroom she could hear the faint sound of whispering voices, fabric rustling and shuffling feet, and then Stabler was striding into view, pulling the bedroom door closed smartly behind him as he went. He was still shirtless, still sweaty, his chest flushed red from his exertion, a lightweight pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips, low enough she could see the start of a happy trail just below his navel, and she jerked her eyes up to his face, feeling furious and awkward at the same time.
"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Stabler growled at her, crossing his arms over his powerful chest, keeping his body between Mack and the bedroom. He'd closed the damn door but evidently that wasn't good enough for him; he looked ready to fight her if she dared take a step forward.
"Bell sent me," Mack snapped. "You weren't answering your damn phone. Tony's in the wind, Bell wants all hands on deck to find him."
"Shit." Stabler deflated, a little, ran his hand over the back of his head, weary now, rather than angry.
"So we gotta -"
"Yeah, yeah, lemme get dressed."
He stomped away, and Mack resumed her tour of the bookshelves, moving from photo to photo. Mostly it was the kids and the wife; there were a few pictures of an older woman who might have been Stabler's mother, and no sign of the brunette anywhere. Part of her hoped that Stabler would dress quickly so she could get the fuck out of this place, but part of her wanted him to take his time, because she didn't want to see his fucking face. It would be a long car ride from the apartment to headquarters, and she'd be alone with him the whole way, and she wasn't sure she was going to be able to bite her tongue, to stop herself from calling him out for his infidelities.
It was just that her father had done the same goddamn thing. When she was little, Mack had loved her father, thought he was the best guy in the whole fucking world, thought he was a fucking superhero. She'd wanted to be just like him, had lived for the moments when he praised her, played with her. And he'd cheated on his wife, lied to his family, betrayed them, and one day he'd walked out the door, and never looked back. Started a new family with a new wife, cheated on her, too. Everywhere he'd gone he'd left a trail of devastation and broken hearts in his wake. Mack's mother had taken to drinking, after he left; the bastard had stolen both of Mack's parents from her, and she'd never forgiven him for it. And here was Stabler, balls deep in some stranger with his wife none the wiser, on track to break his kids' hearts the same way Mack's had been broken.
They were partners, and that meant they were supposed to watch each other's backs and keep each other's secrets, but this…Mack wanted no part of this. She would have no part of this; she wasn't gonna lie for him. Stabler was on his own.
The bedroom door opened suddenly behind her, and she turned around the second she heard the hinges squeak, not wanting Stabler to catch her studying his shelves and the photos there. He saw her just the same, and frowned as he closed the door behind him.
"Snooping?" he grumbled as he approached, his brow furrowing. He'd gotten dressed while she waited, was wearing the grey henley and tight blue jeans he favored when he got to pick his own clothes, that chain sparkling around his neck, mocking her.
"Guilty," she said. "You got a nice looking family."
And you're gonna wreck it. What kind of a selfish bastard does something like that? All those kids, and his pretty wife, and he was risking all of it, disdainful and uncaring in his pursuit of his own pleasure. And the woman, Jesus; she had to know, Mack thought. There was no way she hadn't seen the pictures, or the wedding ring. That woman, she was no victim; she was complicit, and Mack hated her, too. Just like she'd hated the woman her dad had fucked, the one who'd brought her family down. An affair required two participants, and they were both as guilty as each other.
"Thanks." That was all he said, just thanks, short and not at all sweet. "You ready to go or you wanna look around some more?"
"We've kept Bell waiting long enough."
They really had; Bell wanted them in right away and they were wasting precious time. The question of Stabler's affair would have to wait until later; now was not the moment to accuse him. She started for the front door, and he followed after, and they had nearly reached it when the bedroom door swung open again. An almost comical expression of horror danced across Stabler's face, but all he could do was watch helplessly while his lover danced into view, wrapped in a white bed sheet that only barely covered the swell of her breast. Mack might have hated her for being a homewrecker, but shit, that woman was pretty, her face warm and gentle so soon after her pleasure, soft hair brushing against soft skin, that bedsheet doing absolutely nothing to disguise the curves of her body. Beneath that sheet lay the kind of shape a person could lose themselves in exploring, and in that moment Mack almost - almost - understood what had compelled Stabler to fuck around on his wife.
"El," the woman started to call out, holding a phone in the hand not currently clutching the sheet to her chest, but she stopped dead when she caught sight of Mack. Her skin was tan but Mack could see the woman was blushing as she realized she'd been caught, and as Mack looked at her she noticed a few scars scattered across the tops of the woman's full breast, and wondered about them. For his part Stabler was just frozen, staring at his lover like a man watching a trainwreck, wanting to look away, powerless to stop it.
"Oh," the woman said. "You must be Mack."
How the fuck does she know my name? Mack wondered. Had Stabler told his side chick all about his new partner, complained about Mack across the pillow?
This is so weird.
The woman took a step forward, looking for all the world like she meant to reach out and offer her hand for a shake, only she was dressed in nothing but a bedsheet and still clutching that phone, and if she dropped the hand at her chest the sheet would go with it.
"I'm-" the woman started to introduce herself, but her man was having none of it.
"Going back to bed," Stabler said grimly. He stepped between the two of them with an agility that was frankly shocking in a man that size, and curled his hand around his lover's bicep, leading her back towards the bedroom. The woman said something to him as they went, their heads bowed close together, but her voice was too soft for Mack to make out the words. Not so Stabler's; as he crossed the threshold of his bedroom with his lover in tow Mack heard him say clearly I'm just trying to protect you, and then the door was slamming closed, hiding them from view.
Protect yourself, more like, Mack thought. Stabler wasn't an idiot; he had to know he was in the shit now, and he was just trying to mitigate the damage. That part she could understand; what she didn't understand was why the woman seemed so willing to give her name, to make herself known to Mack. Did she really think Mack didn't know Stabler was married to someone else? Did she think she and Mack could be friends?
For a minute or two Stabler stayed in the bedroom, no doubt reminding his lover of the dangerous game they were playing, but eventually he came out, scowling. He was holding the phone this time, clutching it like he intended to keep it in his hand for the rest of his life.
"Let's go," he said, and did not stop to wait for Mack's response, just marched across the apartment with her hot on his heels.
"Sorry to take you away from your wife," she said as they went. She couldn't help but goad him; she was furious with him, furious with her father, indignant on behalf of Stabler's wife and his children even though she'd never met them, disappointed in him because while he rubbed her the wrong way and they hadn't really gotten comfortable with each other yet she'd thought, before now, that he was a good man, and it hurt, to learn that he wasn't. It hurt to be reminded that so few people were as good as she thought they were, as she wanted them to be. She wanted to hear what he had to say for himself, and she wanted to know how deep his betrayal ran, wanted to know if he would lie to her face.
He didn't answer right away; they exited the apartment, and he stopped to lock the door, and only then did he look Mack in the eye.
"She's not my wife," he said shortly.
No shit, she thought.
"Listen, Mack," he continued seriously, his blue eyes staring at her entreatingly. "I'm gonna ask you not to mention this to anyone."
I bet you are. Mack running her mouth about the woman she'd caught him with could ruin his entire life, and they both knew it. If she did it would be his own fault, though; did he really think he could get away with something like this? But Stabler had a lot more years on the force than she did, and Bell liked him better than she liked Mack. If she wasn't careful, his life wasn't the only one that could be ruined. Still, though, she was angry, and couldn't keep her mouth shut.
"What, is she someone else's wife?" Mack fired back. Who is she? She wondered. How had Stabler even had time to meet someone, when he went under so often? Just how long had this affair been going on? And the woman, what about her; what ran through her mind when she fucked someone else's husband?
He shot Mack a murderous look; apparently he didn't think that was funny.
"I don't want people gossiping about her," he said. "You say whatever the fuck you want to me, but you leave her out of it, ok?"
"Ok."
Mack had plenty more to say, but sometimes when her temper was high she struggled to get the words out, and now was not the time to pick a fight with him. It was coming, though; she could feel the anger brewing in her, and she knew she would not be able to hold it in indefinitely. Stabler was playing with fire, and he was bound to get burned eventually, and he had to know it.
Stabler spent most of the drive back to headquarters on his phone; first he had to call Bell - who tore him a new asshole for going MIA the day after a crucial op drew to a close - and then he was coordinating with Jet, finding out what she'd learned and making plans for next steps. Then it was Reyes, who was already out on the street, asking for updates and suggestions. By the time they came marching into the office they had eliminated a number of possibilities, but were still no closer to finding their man.
It was Stabler who made the breakthrough, in the end. OCCB had been keeping Tony in a safehouse, but they didn't have the funds to watch his wife and child for months on end, too, and the wife didn't want to go, anyway. She'd split, taken the kid to stay with family somewhere upstate. Enough time had passed since Tony's departure for him to reach her, but when Reyes sent local unis to check on the house Tony wasn't there.
Maybe there's someone else, Stabler had said. Tony knows if this trial doesn't go forward the Italians are gonna get out, and he'll be dead if that happens. He's got no money, and he's dumb but he's not dumb enough to think he'll survive without our help. Maybe he's not running away, maybe there's just something he's gotta do, someone he's gotta see. Anybody know where Layla is?
Layla was Tony's sister-in-law, his wife's sister. A pretty, single woman in her early forties with a nice smile and nicer tits. She wasn't part of the organized crime racket; Mack and Stabler had never met Layla while they were under. But Tony had talked about her, a lot, more than a man ought to talk about his wife's sister. The team had never found any evidence that anything was going on between the pair of them, but Stabler had his suspicions.
Of course he did, Mack thought as she and Stabler climbed in the car, made their way across the city to Layla's place. Of course Stabler, who was having his own affair, would recognize the signs in someone else. Like recognizes like; he'd looked at Tony, and seen part of his own heart reflected back at him. It did make her wonder, though. If Stabler were in Tony's shoes, if he knew he was gonna have to go into protection and stay there for months, if he had one shot at freedom, one chance to see someone he loved, who would he choose? His wife and children, or his lover? Which woman did he love more? Did he think that love justified his actions, that it was ok, him lying like this, because he really, really loved the loud brunette with the soft, warm body?
When they arrived they found Tony in the middle of a little late afternoon delight with Layla; Stabler pulled him bodily away, threw his clothes at him and berated him for being so fucking stupid, and between them Stabler and Mack got their wayward witness bundled into the car in less than five minutes.
"You couldn't have let me finish?" Tony grumbled from the backseat.
Ew, Mack thought.
"You're lucky we gave you enough time to get dressed," Stabler told him darkly. "What the fuck were you thinking?"
"I miss her," Tony said petulantly.
"You miss her, or you miss getting your dick wet?" The words flew out of Mack's mouth before she could stop them, and Stabler shot her an incredulous look from the driver's seat.
"It's not like that," Tony protested. "Layla's a good girl. She…she helps me figure shit out. I'm happy when I'm with her."
And I'm unhappy when I'm with my wife, that part was left unspoken, but the insinuation seemed to hang in the air nonetheless.
"You got a wife who uprooted her whole life to protect your kid waiting for you upstate, and you go fuck her sister. What about them, huh, Tony? What about your family?"
"Take it easy, kid," Stabler murmured to her softly. He didn't seem to appreciate her brash honesty. But then he wouldn't, would he, because he had placed his own happiness above the love of his family, too.
"We get it, Tony," he added, a little louder. "You're lonely, you're scared, you don't want to put your wife in danger, right?"
"Right," Tony said forcefully. "I don't want these fuckers to find out where my girl is."
"But you're ok risking Layla -" Mack was indignant, furious at his lack of regard for his lover.
"They're not gonna hurt her." His confidence was entirely unfounded, and stunning in its stupidity. "I'd tell 'em she's just a lay, she's nothing special. They'd know she wasn't worth it."
How romantic.
The conversation went like that the whole rest of the drive, Tony trying to defend himself, Stabler making excuses for him, and Mack caught in the middle, resentment for both of them climbing up the ladder of her ribs like kudzu taking over a forest. By the time they got Tony settled in holding at headquarters she was ready to fight both of them, and Stabler knew it. He caught up to her in the corridor, took her by the arm and turned her around to face him, and she almost slapped him for putting his hands on her, even if she knew he didn't mean anything by it.
"You got a problem with me, just say it," he growled at her. "Let's hash this out now."
"That what you want?" Mack spat. "Fine. How about this - fuck you, Stabler."
His face paled, his eyebrows raising up and his mouth dropping open, shocked at the depth of her ire, but Mack was just getting started, and she steamrolled right over him.
"You're right, I got a problem with you. I got a problem with you yucking it up with Tony, acting like it's no big deal that he's cheating on his wife. I got a problem with you, because you got a beautiful wife and beautiful kids and you're shitting all over all of it. How can you do that to her, Stabler? She's your fucking wife! She gave you all those babies and she's stuck with you god only knows how many years and this is how you repay her? Fucking someone else on a Saturday morning and asking me not to tell anyone? If you think I'm gonna cover for you and your fucking mistress you got another thing coming. Asshole."
By the time she was done Mack was shaking all over, she was so fucking pissed, and to her horror she felt tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. The tears were not only for Stabler, for his wife and his kids and his grandsons; the tears were for herself, for her mother, for Tony's wife upstate and the toddler she was looking after, and everyone else who'd ever been hurt by a selfish, arrogant man. She spun away from him, determined to leave him stewing in guilt while she went to splash some water on her face and clear her head, but he didn't let her. He caught hold of her again, stepped right up into her space and looked down into her eyes with a deadly serious expression on his face.
"You got it all wrong," he started to say.
"Yeah," Mack laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah, that's what they all say, there's always some excuse -"
"My wife is dead."
He said it sadly, simply, with no hesitation, and Mack's belly swooped unpleasantly, all her rage turned to embarrassment, to regret, in a moment.
"She died two years ago," he continued. "And I was never, ever unfaithful to her. I need you to know that, Mack. If we're gonna work together, I need you to know that."
That was why he still wore his ring. Why the pictures were still up everywhere. He'd loved his wife, and never cheated on her, and lost her, and mourned her still, and Mack had spent the whole day thinking he was a selfish son of a bitch, punishing him in her mind for crimes he'd never committed.
"Why didn't you introduce me to your girl, then?" Mack asked feebly. At the apartment Stabler had been so cagey, so determined to keep his lover away from Mack, begged Mack not to tell anyone, hadn't even let her know his woman's name. Why do all that, if their relationship was above board?
"She's a cop," he said with a shrug. "That's all I'm gonna tell you, for right now. But if people find out we're seeing each other…we wanna control when that news comes out. I wanna control it, for her sake. Her reputation matters and people respect her and I don't wanna risk that."
I'm just trying to protect you…
Holy shit. He'd been telling the truth, the whole time. He was trying to protect his woman, had told Mack he didn't want people gossiping about her. He was just…he was just trying to be kind, in that overbearing machismo way he had. People respected his woman, and his own reputation was hardly spotless, and he knew that, and wanted to keep her clean.
"Shit," she muttered, running her fingers through her hair. She was gonna have to apologize to him, and she hated that.
"Look," he said. "All that shit I said to Tony…I never cheated on my wife. I never did. But I know what it's like to…not to want to, but to find…relationships are complicated, Mack. They just are. You know that, you got somebody at home."
He does listen when I talk, she thought faintly.
"We need to keep Tony safe. We need him to think we're on his side. So, yeah, I'm gonna be friendly with him. I'm gonna make him think I understand where he's coming from. And maybe I do, a little. Maybe I understand…but I…if we're gonna work together I need you to trust me. I need you to know I'm somebody you can trust."
For the first time in six months Mack looked at her partner. Really looked at him, and saw all of him. The cop who'd sacrificed his reputation and his standing among his fellow officers to bring down the corrupt Brotherhood. The hothead who picked fights in bars while they were under. The husband who loved his wife, and did not betray her. The widower who mourned the love he had lost but protected his new love, too. The grizzled old soldier, the devoted father, grandfather, even.
The old man's just doing his best, she thought.
"I trust you," she said, and he smiled, maybe for the first time since they'd met. It was a nice smile; she wanted to see it more often.
"Let's go," he said. "I'm starving."
They made their way back to the office where the rest of the team was waiting, and as they stepped into the room Bell called out to them.
"Hey, Stabler!" she said. "Your partner's here!"
What is she talking about? Mack wondered. Mack was his partner, and she was standing right next to him. But as she looked around she found a woman who did not belong there, walking towards them with bags of what looked like Chinese takeout in her hands.
Stabler's woman, fully dressed now. That long hair was caught in a clip at the back of her head, and in place of a sheet she wore a smart black blazer, white blouse underneath covering the scars Mack had seen, black trousers, black boots. She carried a gun on one hip and a badge on the other, and she smiled when she saw them. Mack took a step back, let the woman greet Stabler and tried not to remember what she'd looked like, wrapped up in that bedsheet, warm and freshly fucked.
"Hey, partner," the woman said to Stabler.
"Hey, partner," he answered, grinning.
"I thought you guys might be hungry. Ayanna said you hadn't eaten yet."
"Woo Hop?" Stabler asked hopefully.
"Always," his woman answered, still smiling. "Come on, I brought enough for everyone," she added, throwing her voice so that it reached the whole team. She set the bags down on the nearest desk and started to unpack them, and Stabler went to help her, and Mack took the opportunity to sidle up to Jet.
"Who is that?" she asked, as quietly as she possibly could.
"That's Captain Benson," Jet answered. "Manhattan SVU. She was Stabler's partner for like. An eternity. She's a friend."
That was all Jet said; the allure of egg rolls and hot lo mein was too much for her to resist, and she made a beeline for the food, left Mack alone, watching Stabler and Benson, partners in more way than one, apparently, as they passed out the food, making sure everyone else had enough before they took some for themselves.
Maybe that was what Stabler meant, when he said he'd understood what drove Tony to sleep with Layla, even though he was married to someone else. Stabler was married, and Captain Benson was his partner, and maybe they'd drawn close to the line somewhere along the way, but Mack believed him, when he said he'd never cheated on his wife. She chose to believe him, because he was her partner, and they were just gonna have to trust each other. She chose to believe him because she wanted to, because she wanted to believe that he was a good man, because Captain Benson seemed like a nice woman, because the world was dark, and scary, and she didn't want to make it worse, not if she didn't have to. She chose to believe him, and she thanked the Captain when she took her serving of sesame chicken.
They ate together, all of them, OCCB and the Captain. Stabler didn't touch Benson even once, and they spoke to everyone, not just each other, and the Captain smiled every time she caught Mack's eye, something in her expression that made Mack feel like there was something the Captain wanted to say to her. Probably there was; Stabler had tried to keep the Captain away from Mack in the morning, and in the evening the Captain had come herself, even though she really didn't need to. They could've ordered takeout for themselves. Mack kinda got the feeling that the Captain had done it on purpose, and she liked that, that streak of independence, that strength of will, the way the Captain had ignored her boyfriend's attempts to hide her and done precisely what she wanted to do instead.
The opportunity came in the bathroom of all places; the Captain found her there, after they'd all finished eating, leaned back against the wall while Mack washed her hands.
"About this morning," she started to say.
"Your secret's safe with me, Captain" Mack promised her earnestly.
"Thank you, for that. We didn't mean to put you in an awkward position."
"It's not your fault," Mack assured her. "Just…make sure he answers his phone next time."
Please, God, make him answer his phone. The last thing she needed was to see Stabler, naked, thrusting into the Captain for a second time.
The Captain had the good grace to blush.
"Trust me, I will," she said. "But I just wanted to say…I know he's not the easiest person to work with. We were partners for more than a decade, I know what he's like."
And you're sleeping with him, Mack thought. That had to be a good sign, that Benson liked him enough to keep seeing him even though they weren't partners on the job anymore. But what did she like about him? It was hard for Mack to imagine someone wanting to be intimate with Stabler, but maybe that was just because she hadn't really gotten to know him yet. Maybe the Captain knew something Mack didn't. Probably it as a lot of things.
"But you can't ask for a better partner. He's difficult, maybe, but he's…the best. He'll look out for you. He's always gonna have your back. And I just want to ask…I just need to know you're always gonna have his."
Something in the air had shifted; the Captain's mood was no longer pleasantly friendly, or even slightly awkward. She looked worried. She was worried about her man, Mack realized. Partners on the job for over a decade, more than ten years of protecting him, and now the Captain had to trust his safety to someone else. Stabler wanted to protect his woman, but she wanted to protect him, too, and shit, that was sweet.
"I do," Mack promised. "I will."
"Thank you," the Captain said earnestly. "We should probably get back, but I was thinking…Elliot says you've got a girlfriend. I was thinking it might be nice if the four of us got dinner together sometime. What do you think?"
"Uh."
At first Mack didn't know what to say, taken aback by the earnest domesticity of the request. She'd never been invited to dinner by a Captain before, and she was stunned to learn that Stabler had spoken about her. Oh, she'd told Anna plenty about the old man, but what had he told his woman about the kid he'd been saddled with? The Captain didn't seem to care that she was gay - Stabler hadn't cared, either, but then Ayanna was, too, and if he'd been a homophobe he'd probably have left OCCB ages ago - and it seemed like she wanted them all to be friends.
Two hours before Mack would've sworn she'd never be friends with Stabler. But standing in that room, with the woman who loved him, she realized maybe that was a choice, too. Maybe she could choose to be his friend, and he hers. Maybe they'd all be better off if they knew each other. Maybe Anna wouldn't feel so lonely if she knew there was a woman waiting for Stabler just like Anna was waiting for Mack. Maybe they could all take care of each other. Maybe they could be something like a family.
"I'd like that," Mack said, and meant it.
