Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Elliot woke with the sun. Their new bedroom had a big window that Olivia was still getting used to, but he loved it. He always woke first, and he loved that, too, the quiet before the chaos. Olivia slept curled into his arms. It was only a week since the wedding, mere months since they first, finally, fell into bed together, but Elliot felt ready to celebrate a silver anniversary. The relationship was brand new and ancient at once, and stretched out into time and space. He'd been restless all his life, but not now.

"I can hear you thinking," Olivia said. Her eyes remained closed, but her lips turned up in a smile. 

"Sorry." Elliot kissed the top of her head. "I didn't want to wake you."

Olivia scrunched her nose and blinked her eyes open. "Why not? We're going in together." The trial for the street fair rapist was coming up soon and they had an appointment with the legal team in the afternoon. Olivia planned to drop Elliot at OCCB on the way in so they could return home together afterwards.

"I know, but I love to watch you sleep."

She tilted her chin up to meet his eyes. "Why?"

"Feels like this is real," Elliot said softly. 

Olivia leaned up to brush his lips. She pressed their foreheads together. "How long do we have?"

"It's not even seven," he said, his breath hot on her skin. 

Olivia groaned. "Why are you awake?" She pulled away, fell back into the mattress, and looked up at him with a mix of aggravation and affection.

Elliot smiled and shrugged. "I was gonna go for a run."

"'Was gonna'?" Olivia raised an eyebrow.

"Thinking about a different kind of workout right now," he said, dropping down beside her.

She laughed. "You're impossible."

"Anyone who woke up next to you would think about the same thing." Elliot's fingers disappeared under her shirt.

"Elliot—" She was suddenly breathless as his fingers played across her body.

"What?" he said with a self-satisfied smirk.

"I have to—"  Her breath hitched in response to his continued attentions. "I'm supposed to go into the office for a few hours before the meeting."

"Me, too," he said, quiet, nonchalant, and confident. 

"And Noah's going to the new school— I have to—" His agile fingers fondled her breast. She meant to say she had to make sure Noah was ready, but the words flew out of her mind. "Elliot—" She bit her lip.

He moved away from her nipple and cupped her breast in his hand. Olivia's breathing slowed. "Amanda's okay bringing him?" he asked softly.

"Yeah." Noah and Jesse would go to the same school now. The paperwork was done online, but today they'd scheduled a tour. "Maureen's gonna take Billie." Amanda thought she'd be jealous that Jesse got to go with Noah, and Maureen welcomed the distraction for her boys and herself. Elliot nodded. His thumb still brushed against her skin, but his eyes went briefly distant. Olivia tilted her head. "What?"

Elliot looked down. "What what?"

Olivia pulled back, and his fingers slipped away. "What are you worrying about?"

"Not worrying, wondering." Olivia raised her chin and waited. Elliot swallowed a sigh. "School starts up in just a few weeks." Olivia nodded. "I'm thinking about the twins." Maureen and her children remained mostly secluded in Olivia's apartment with Ryan Wheatley, Detective Bruno acting as a live-in bodyguard, and full-time surveillance. The temporary restraining order against her husband would remain in place until their hearing, but Carl had broken it before. A lot of Maureen's situation was to be determined, but summer was waning, and Seamus and Kieran had to go to school. 

Olivia took a breath. "Well, if they moved in here, they could go with Billie. And it's just a block over from Jesse and Noah's school."

Elliot folded his lips. "What if they stay in Manhattan?"

"I can talk to Noah's old principal."

He swallowed. "I want her here." He trusted the apartment was safe, but he wanted to see her safe with his own eyes. He wanted to control what variables he could.

"I know you do." Olivia brushed a hand down his arm. She understood. She felt the same way. "But it's important for Maureen to decide what she wants." She was getting out of an abusive relationship and needed to have agency over her life and decisions.

"I know," Elliot said quietly. He was slipping into a dark mood. Olivia crept closer and moved her hands down his body to provide support and comfort. When she reached his waistband, her gentle ministrations took a naughty turn. Elliot looked up in surprise to find a saucy smile. 

"It's still before seven," she said with a wink.

Kathleen carefully wrapped a mug in tissue paper and placed it into a box. A client had gifted it to her, a thank you for being there when no one else wanted to listen. The mug declared 'Not All Heroes Wear Capes' and Kathleen treasured it. It was strange to be packing up. She was excited to be making the move. Working with Barba, she would have more access and more responsibility.  But it was scary, too. And now that she was here, it was real. She was handing in her computer, writing final notes on various cases, and packing up her personal items. Turning in her ID. As of today, she would no longer be an employee at Small Victories. 

There was a weird vibe at the office from the minute she arrived. Joe had told her he expected cake at dinner when he dropped her off. It was a joke, and she knew he meant that he was proud of her and assumed her office would be, too. Kathleen wasn't super close to any of her coworkers, but they got along, and she would get a cake if any of them were leaving. But everyone seemed weirdly standoffish instead. To be fair, the atmosphere was a bit icy since the lockdown. She couldn't work from the safe house and had to pass off a lot of clients. They didn't hire anyone to take her place—her boss said it seemed unfair and possibly unlawful to hold the death threats against her—so they all had to take on more cases, and she'd been working part-time and hybrid since she got out. It probably seemed like she got a lot of special treatment, and maybe she did. But she worked hard and she thought she'd smoothed things over. She thought they'd be excited for her to be working with a lawyer, that she could be a resource, now. But instead of cake and well wishes, she was getting silence and averted eyes. 

Vicki, her soon-to-be former supervisor, appeared at her shared cubicle. "Are you done packing?"

Kathleen straightened. "Just about. Do you want to go over—"

"No, just finish your reports. You can bring the laptop in there to do it." Vicki pointed to their break room. It was small, just a table with two chairs, and the overhead light was broken, with only one bulb lit up. Kathleen assumed one of the people she shared the desk with must be coming in, but a part of her felt like she was being shuffled out of sight. 

"Oh, okay." Kathleen started to gather her things. 

"Let me know when you're done, and we can complete the computer paperwork."

"O—" When Kathleen looked up, Vicki was already gone. "Okay," she said softly into the empty space.

The trial strategy meeting was held at Barba's new offices in the Bronx. Carmen smiled from her perch at the front desk when Elliot and Ayanna arrived; she was still looking for the right person to take the receptionist job and had to be the face of the firm until she did. "Go on back, they're expecting you."

Bell turned right into the conference room, but Elliot walked past it to the office between Carmen's and Barba's. He reached up to brush the nameplate on the door. It read Kathleen Stabler. The door was closed, and he knew she wasn't there or quite moved in, but his chest puffed up proud anyway. Look where she landed.

"El?" Olivia called from the door to the conference room.

"Coming." He crossed quickly back and pressed her hand as they headed inside. Elliot sat between Olivia and Bell opposite Carisi, Barba, and Alex. At the sight of their old friend, Elliot's hackles went up. "Why's Alex here?"

"We'll get to that," Barba said. Elliot's eyes narrowed, but he settled back in his chair and nodded for the lawyer to continue. Barba took a breath. "Thanks for coming, I know you're all busy, and I know at least two of you are impatient." Elliot made a face. Olivia rolled her eyes. Bell spread her hands as if to say she was more rational than the other two, but her patience only extended so far, too. Barba waved to Carisi.

He sat up and folded his hands on the table. "After the motion to sever was granted—"

Olivia set her jaw and braced herself. She knew what was coming. Lewis's sneering face flashed before her eyes unbidden and was followed swiftly by Wheatley.

"The other four cases were dismissed for lack of evidence."

Elliot huffed. "There's a clear pattern, and we have video of the van—"

Carisi raised a hand. "Be that as it may." Elliot flattened his lips. "There is nothing tying the suspect to the assaults or the scenes. Nothing in the rape kits, nothing probative on the grounds, and no video of him." Jet was still looking, but so far they'd come up empty. "Three other men use that van for the business."

Elliot, Olivia, and Ayanna sat up in agitated unison. 

"It's not a business, it's a criminal enterprise," said Ayanna. 

"You mean the front to hide rape?" Olivia said at the same time. 

Elliot gave them both a wolfish smile and crossed his arms. The angry response to Carisi's words was palpable, and the ADA agreed. But he had to be realistic. The evidence was thin to nonexistent. "Go on," Elliot said to Carisi.

The ADA took a nervous breath. "He's made a request to revisit bail, and based on everything—"

Elliot bolted out of his seat. "He's gonna get out?"

Carisi sighed. "It's likely."

"What are you going to do to protect my daughter?"

Olivia reached for his arm. "Elliot—"

"She is the only one who can ID the guy," he said in a tortured voice.

Bell leaned in on his other side. "She lives with one of ours, and she works here. We can keep her safe." Elliot shook his head, unconvinced.

Barba cleared his throat. "I think if we put a detail on Kathleen, it could hurt the case, and I am not convinced she wouldn't try to slip them." He looked at Olivia and Elliot with eyes that said 'exactly like you would'. Elliot huffed, but Barba wasn't wrong. He nodded acceptance and sat back down.

Carisi breathed out. "The good news is we'll get a speedy trial, and the DA knows we need a win."

Olivia looked around the room. Elliot was wound tight. Ayanna looked wary. Barba was as righteous as ever, and Carisi exuded determination, but she couldn't get a read on Alex. "What's your plan?"

Carisi sat back. "We want to put Detective Bruno and Kathleen on the stand. I hope not to need the rest of you because..." His voice tapered off into a frown.

"Because that will be a mess," Ayanna said.

"Yeah." Carisi nodded. It was an understatement. "But we have to be prepared for all eventualities, so we still need to interview everyone."

Olivia narrowed her eyes. "Everyone?"

Barba leaned in and spoke in a soft, measured voice, pitched to keep the calm. "We want to add Eli and Noah to the interview list." She tensed. "Not depositions," Barba rushed to say. "And I swear—" He looked up to encompass Elliot in his gaze. "I swear we will do everything we can to keep them out of court. We just want to talk to them here."

"We want to talk to all of you," Carisi said. "So we can be as prepared as possible."

Elliot grasped Olivia's hand. They hated it but knew it was the right call. "All right," Olivia said. 

"Thank you." Barba and Carisi looked at Alex.

"To answer your earlier question," she said. "I'm here because Maureen's case is tied into it."

"Because of Buchanan?" The attorney for the defense was also representing Carl in the upcoming hearing, for any charges that might be levied against him, and potentially for what threatened to be a contentious divorce.

"She's referred to in the recording," Carisi said gently. "Not by name, but Jet mentions Elizabeth's sister being locked up." Elliot looked murderous. Olivia squeezed his hand to comfort.

"It's more than that, though," Alex said. She looked at the couple with sympathetic eyes. "Carl told Maureen that you, both of you, orchestrated the arrest of the suspect and fabricated Kathleen's assault. Everyone involved is either corrupt or being manipulated."

"That's absurd," Olivia said in a tight voice. Again, her demons flashed behind her eyes.

Alex reached across the table to press her hand. "I know, but—"

"We think they're building their entire case on it," Barba finished.

Elliot raised his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"If they can paint SVU as corrupt—rotten for decades—imagine the fallout."

Olivia closed her eyes. Everything she'd done, everything she stood for, would be torn down and ground into dust. Lives would be ruined and lost. The city could defund the department, sweep them all into oblivion, and sell it as a win for justice while thousands of victims were silenced.

"That's not gonna happen." Elliot's piercing blue eyes were as hard as they'd ever seen them. "What are the pressure points?"

Across town, in the warehouse Dana Wheatley worked out of while in hiding, Buchanan pinned a photo to the wall, a mug shot from fifteen years back. "Kathleen Stabler," he said in a booming voice, "has past arrests for DUI, B and E, larceny, and public lewdness. Plea deals were made with a sentence of mandatory counseling and probation, and her record was expunged when completed. She also has a medical diagnosis of Bipolar I disorder."

Dana smacked her lips. "In other words, she's crazy and a criminal."

Buchanan hummed in agreement. "Carl described her as flighty and oversensitive." He briefly looked down at his notes. Carl was an outside part of the conspiracy. He still didn't know about Dana's involvement, and she hoped to keep him in the dark indefinitely. If they were burned, they could pin the whole thing on Carl, and he would have no way to trade her in for a deal. She hadn't wanted to let Buchanan in as deep as he was, either, but her network dried up, and she had to make do with what was available. "Says she's had a string of relationships that flame out." Dana smiled. Kathleen gave them plenty to work with, and the first volley against her was already in the air.

"Kathleen has a history," Barba summed up succinctly. "However, she's been an advocate for a decade." He pointed to a photo. "The first victim disclosed to her, which explains why this case mattered to her and why she put solving it above her personal safety." He looked up at the group. "How she's treated comes down to whose narrative the jury believes. But she has a strong case if it breaks through. We're shakier on the sting."

"The operation was by the book," Elliot said defensively.

Barba shot him a look. "The execution was not." Elliot sighed. He couldn't argue that. "Richard was not disclosed on the recording, and we have a flimsy excuse for his presence." An uncomfortable quiet fell over the room. They all knew that whatever the paperwork said, Dickie was set up as a Confidential Informant after the fact. 

Bell straightened. "My office has discretion—"

"To keep things from the DA?" Barba said. 

"When necessary," she said, unimpressed with his affront.

Carisi pursed his lips. Barba waved his hands. "All right, but that's not the only issue. Everyone in this room and at that fair was distracted by personal issues that had nothing to do with the case."

Dana and her photographer PI, Jared, joined Buchanan at the wall. "Kathleen is dating Detective Velasco of SVU," the lawyer said, pointing to one of the photos of police posted in a grid to the side. "He has ties to Mexican gangs, and there's some evidence Benson is protecting him." Jared pinned up more photos as Buchanan talked. "Twins Richard and Elizabeth Stabler are in some kind of love geometry with Detectives Jamie Whelan and Henritetta Sloo—Sloo-tem—"

Dana waved a hand. "Whatever." She nodded to the snapshots added by the photographer. "Most recent surveillance suggests Boy Twin and Sloot are shacking up and samesies for Girl Twin and Wheel-an, but there's plenty to play with here." Buchanan grimaced at the nicknames. Dana rolled her eyes. "Don't act like you're above casual slurs." He huffed dismissively but remained quiet. Dana smirked and turned her attention back to the wall of photos. "It's cute, really, how they're all dating cops."

Buchanan pointed at an image of Maureen and Bruno getting into a cab together, each carrying a sleeping child. "Is this relationship confirmed?"

"Who cares?" Dana said with a laugh. "The reality is, Maureen is living with the pretty boy detective in Benson's recently vacated apartment while still married to poor, mistreated Carl." Jared tapped a photo of Carl being shoved away from Maureen by the angry blonde lawyer. Dana was still gathering intel on her. She was definitely connected to SVU, but there were odd gaps in the timeline. 

"Bruno's a Boy Scout," Buchanan said. "He's the face of anti-corruption in SVU."

"Which is why Benson recruited him. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer." Dana traced Bruno's jawline in the photo. "Be easy to start a rumor she slept with him, too. Fits the pattern."

"Our goal will be to keep all of the—" Barba waved a hand that the group understood to mean the relationship drama between the twins, Jet, and Jamie, which was really just the tip of the iceberg. "That," he said to finish the thought, "out of it. But we need to be prepared for the defense to use it, if not in court, outside of it. Or both." Elliot and Olivia nodded. "But back to the facts of the operation. Jet was told to stand down, and Kathleen, a civilian who was not trained, miked, or listed as participating, took her place."

"Of her own volition," Olivia said.

"We'll need to prove that," Carisi said.

"How?"

Carisi pursed his lips. "Well, she is listed on the report for the earlier case."

Barba crossed his arms. "The defense will fight to keep that out."

"They should," Carisi said. "If we can get it in, we can show the pattern. But the main proof is going to be Kathleen herself."

Olivia looked away, her heart pounding in her ears. The trial was going to be a nightmare for them all, but especially Kathleen. She knew exactly what would happen and wanted nothing more than to steal Kathleen away from it. 

"We need to control the narrative," Dana said. "Paint the whole family as the UnStablers they are." She pointed at Maureen and Kathleen. "These two are crazy." 

Maureen grabbed three juice boxes and a giant bag of grapes from the refrigerator. She set the juice on the island and separated the grapes into four piles. Ryan wouldn't accept a juice box, but she bet she could get him to take a cup of grapes.

Kathleen kept her head down and focused on the task at hand to avoid wondering why not one single person popped in to say goodbye. Her phone pinged with a text from Joe: a cake emoji with a question mark. She sent back a sad face, followed by a shrugging woman, and returned to her notes.

Dana moved her finger to a photo of the twins. "These two are sex deviants."

Dickie slumped over his desk, aimlessly drawing shapes in the margins of a report. He was supposed to be reading it, but they were all the same. Nothing he did at work or home had an impact on anything. When he'd said so to Jet, she told him to do something about it or shut up, and came home the next day with an application to the police academy. It sat next to the report, taunting him in Jet's place.

Lizzie breathed heavily as she wrenched a piece of heavy brass wire into the oblong shape she wanted it to be. A sharp edge cut into her palm as she shaped the corner, causing her to swear and Jamie to appear in the doorway.

"You okay in there?"

"I'm great in here," she said, setting the newly shaped wire beside the other pieces, before flashing a toothy grin his way. 

"These two," Dana said, pointing at the photos of Eli and Noah, "are delinquents."

Eli carefully pressed the sticky side of a colorful Post-it into the back wall of his closet. A third of the space was full of similar sticky notes with words of reflection and half-formed ideas written in Sharpie. He wasn't sure he could explain what they were to his family. He wasn't really sure he could explain what they were to himself. But they gave him a sense of balance and sometimes purpose. He pulled his clothes over the bar to hide the wall from view and quietly closed the door.

Noah gazed out at the city from the back side of the roof of his new school. It had a small greenhouse in the corner and rows of plants in big pots. The woman giving the tour said the space was used as a classroom, they had a gardening club, and even held choral performances and school dances up here. Jesse was running from plant to plant, identifying them all with an app, while Amanda listened to the teacher go over the curriculum. Noah imagined dancing A Midsummer Night's Dream with the New York skyline as a backdrop.

Dana next pointed first at Carl and then at Kathy. "These two are victims. Two of many," she added with a nod at Buchanan. He hoped to turn Benson's downfall into a suit against the city that would rake in millions. "And these two—" Her finger slid all the way up the wall to the photo of a smiling Elliot and Olivia at the top. "Are corrupt, calculating, manipulative, criminal masterminds." She raised her eyes to the heavens. "Exactly the villains they said my father was."

"There's one more thing you have to know." Alex breathed deeply and squared her shoulders against the outburst she knew was coming. "Carl also accused Elliot of killing Kathy."

Ayanna gasped. Olivia's eyes went wide with horror. Elliot stood so fast his chair tipped over. "What?"

Alex stood, too. "We don't know the plan, but they gave Carl enough—"

"What could they possibly show to suggest—?" Olivia stood and moved beside Alex. Elliot paced in a frenzy just out of reach. "He thinks we're dangerous, corrupt, okay, but how—" She shook her head, shocked that her opinion of Carl could somehow get lower than it already had.

"He said this to Maureen?" Elliot said in an anguished murmur. "He said this to my daughter?"

"Elliot—" Olivia reached out to touch him, but he backed away. 

"Don't!" His whole body shook. "Don't."

Alex moved in close, neither touching nor reaching, but standing in his path. "She didn't fall for it," she said with an angry intensity that almost matched his own. "She hates him for it."

"I—" Elliot fell still, overcome with emotion. "I need a minute." He walked around Alex and headed to the door.

Olivia reached out again as he passed. "El—"

"I'm okay." His voice was barely above a whisper, and his hands shook, but he pressed her hand quickly. "I'll be okay." He disappeared into the corridor.

Kathleen signed the last line and sat back. 

Vicki gathered the paperwork into a folder with a smile. "I think that's it." She stood, and Kathleen followed suit. Vicki held out a hand. "Good luck, Kathleen, I hope you find what you're looking for."

Kathleen frowned. It seemed an odd way to wish her luck. "Thank you," she said as they shook hands. "I have some business cards I'd like to leave with you all. Mr. Barba and I hope to be a resource for you."

"Sure, I can take them," her ex-boss said with a cagey smile.

Kathleen's frown deepened. "Will you use them?"

The older woman folded her arms. "Honestly, probably not."

Kathleen shook her head. "Why?"

"Look, Kathleen, you know we have high standards for the people we recommend. They have to be vetted. None of us has worked with Barba and his reputation—" She shook her head. "Well, he was a prosecutor."

"For SVU. He stood up for victims."

"And who does he stand up for now?"

"Victims," Kathleen said. Her shoulders shook with tension. 

"The Wheatleys aren't victims."

"Ryan is." Her supervisor sighed. "Vicki, he's just a kid."

"Maybe," Vicki said. "But the point is we don't know Barba—"

"You know me."

Vicki continued as if she hadn't spoken. "And what we do know is troubling. His track record at the DA’s office isn't spotless either. Nor is SVU's."

Kathleen stared at her. "What?"

"Look, I know this is personal for you."

"I don't— what do you mean?"

Vicki sighed. She pulled something up on her tablet and held it out. 

Kathleen took the tablet with trepidation. Her heart started to pound as she skimmed the article. "This is just lies."

"Is it?"

"I never hid my past." Kathleen felt lightheaded, and her breathing was ragged. "You hired me because of it."

Vicki sighed again. "Look, own voices and mad studies and lived experience, all that's important. But we're a non-profit and our donors don't like scandals. Especially ones that center cops."

"This centers me," Kathleen said in a whisper.

Vicki shook her head. Even if it did, Kathleen was surrounded by cops. If the comments on the post were anything to go by, public sentiment was on the other side. "I'm sorry, Kathleen. I really am."

Alex found Elliot on the floor of the break room with his back against the wall and his head in his hands. "No one who matters would ever believe it."

"You can't say no one would believe it."

Alex shrugged. "People believe a lot of things that aren't true. I thought you had thicker skin."

He did, but his foundation, his family, was being attacked, and knowing that Dickie considered himself Kathy's sole defender created a tiny kernel of fear and doubt. If Dickie believed it might be true even for a split second...how could he fix that? Elliot lifted his eyes to hers. "Noah said I don't have to be the strong one all the time."

Alex laughed. "Wow."

"What?" he said. A ribbon of hurt ran through the defensive response.

Alex shook her head. "You were a dad the whole time I knew you, but you were also a hardass."

"Yeah, well, takes one to know one."

"Damn straight." They laughed together softly at their shared youth. "Noah's right." And a tribute to his mom, she thought. "But, in this case, we need you to be a bear." She held out a hand. Elliot accepted it, and she pulled him up. They walked slowly into the hall.

"How'd you get stuck coming after me?"

"The boys have work to do, Liv's your safe space, and Bell deserves better."

Elliot chuckled. "Liv's my safe space?"

"Always has been." She knocked his shoulder. "I'm glad you finally made it official."

"You are?"

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Am I not supposed to be?"

Elliot shrugged. Alex knew them as long as Fin did, and they'd been through a lot, individually and as a unit. He hadn't seen her in years, but here she was managing him like a member of the family. "Guess I thought you'd say Liv deserves better, too."

"She does," Alex said, agreeing easily. "But you can be better, you've proven it." Elliot looked thoughtful. "And more importantly, I trust her to know what she wants, and she picked you."

"Thanks, Alex." He swallowed. "For all of it." What she did, and was doing, for Maureen was more important than any of his feelings.

Alex nodded, understanding. "She'll be okay. She's tougher than she looks."

"She's a Stabler," Elliot said. "That's how we're built." Alex thought Elliot looked pretty tough all told, but she understood the sentiment and knocked his shoulder again.

"Dad."

Elliot turned, immediately on edge at the sound of heartbreak in his daughter's voice. Alex glanced up a split second behind him, and at the sight of Kathleen's red-rimmed eyes, she ushered them both back into the conference room. 

"Kathleen, what's wrong?" Elliot said, his voice tight with tension. Olivia broke away from the others and sped over to join them.

Kathleen held out her phone, open to an article titled 'Cop’s Troubled Daughter at the Heart of SVU Scandal.' "My boss said someone emailed a link to everyone I worked with." Barba took the phone and started to read. "It says I made everything up to get attention and then tricked myself into believing it's true. It says I should be pitied. That I'm too much of a mess to know I'm being manipulated."

"Where's this posted?" Alex asked.

"Something called Truth Watch," Barba said. "It looks local to New York."

"We can get Jet on it," Bell said. Barba nodded.

"Why send it to her coworkers?" Carisi said. "She's leaving."

Barba looked up from the screen. "Because if they distance themselves—" Kathleen nodded that they were. "It gives the story weight. We look like we have something to hide."

"They think I got this job so you can keep an eye on me." Her shoulders trembled with the weight of it.

Olivia reached over to grasp her hand. "So what do we do?"

"Attacking it plays into their hand," Barba said. "We need to win in court and focus on that." Elliot shook his head. He knew Barba was right, but he hated it for his daughter, and his faith in the courts had been bruised. His instinct was to fight. "We should prepare an avenue for Kathleen to tell her story, though." Barba met her eyes. "The time will come for that. I promise." Kathleen set her jaw and nodded once in acknowledgment.

"I can work on that," Alex said.

Barba nodded and turned his eyes back to Olivia. "In the meantime, we move forward as we planned." He pulled back to include Elliot in his gaze, and then the whole group. "As a united front. We prepare and we protect each other. Support each other." He nodded toward Carisi. "The law is on our side." He found Olivia's eyes again. "The truth is on our side." She raised her chin in wordless understanding. Barba's nostrils flared. "We lie in wait like an apex predator, and when the time comes—"

Kathleen's eyes flashed. "We destroy them."

Chapter Text

It took another forty minutes to make a plan for the rest of the week, and when they finally broke up, they were, to a person, emotionally exhausted. Kathleen leaned against the brick wall past the door with her shoulders slumped and her eyes focused on the ground in front of her. Elliot flashed back decades to a scene of heartbreak after her first middle school dance. If only this could be solved with gentle words, hot chocolate, and a bear hug. "Wanna come home for dinner?" he offered anyway.

Kathleen gave him a wan smile but shook her head. "No, Joe's waiting for me."

Elliot nodded. He supposed Joe could provide comfort as easily as he could and then shut his mind off before it conjured any ideas of what that might entail. 

"We can drive you home," Olivia said.

Kathleen shook her head again. "It's out of the way." Olivia looked like she wanted to argue. "I'm okay," Kathleen said. She glanced between her parents and Rafael, too, watching from the periphery. "I promise I'm okay."

Olivia's eyes washed over her step-daughter's face, looking for signs she was faking it. "At least let us get you a cab."

Kathleen sighed but agreed. She didn't want them to worry. Elliot and Olivia procured a taxi, handed Kathleen cash, and with another tight hug, sent her on her way. Once the cab turned the corner, they headed to the garage. Olivia made a quick call before pulling up their new address and sharing the ETA with Eli, Noah, and Amanda. Carisi sat in the back to make arrangements for the interviews on the phone. Barba had already asked Carmen to look for more posts and any press about Kathleen, the defendant, the case, or the family, and Elliot knew she would do better than any Google search. But it didn't stop him from attempting his own on the drive home. Olivia kept her eyes on traffic; she was still getting used to her new commute, and this was her first visit to Barba's new office. There were all three quiet and brooding. The storm had been brewing; they'd felt it for weeks, and now it was very nearly upon them.

"I'm home," Kathleen said as she bolted the door. She dropped her bag, kicked off her shoes, and walked into Joe's waiting arms. "She called you."

Joe kissed the top of her head. "She called me."

Kathleen tipped her chin up to meet his eyes, annoyance and affection at war in her expression. She appreciated both Olivia's and Joe's attention, but she hated to be coddled. "I'm fine."

"You are not fine, and you don't have to be." Joe stood back and moved his hands to her shoulders. "Nothing about this is fine." Kathleen let out a shuddering breath and nodded. "Come on, you need to eat," Joe said as he steered her toward the table. Kathleen let herself relax a little into his touch. Joe was in full caretaking mode, and, well, she didn't hate it. 

"Mac and cheese?" she said with a teasing lilt at the sight of the box on the counter. 

"Simple and filling," Joe said confidently. Kathleen smiled. He gestured to the table. "Sit. Talk to me."

Quiet grew as Kathleen dropped into the seat and tried to get her swirling thoughts and feelings in order. Joe waited with a patience honed in SVU. He calmly split his focus between her and the meal to keep the pressure off. 

"I knew an attack was coming. Everyone's been warning me." Barba, Carisi, Cabot, Dad, Liv, and Joe himself had all told her to be prepared. "And like, I've been to seminars on DARVO." Joe nodded. He had, too. They both recognized the tactic with Carl. Deny any wrongdoing. Attack Elliot, Olivia, Kathleen, and the rest of the family. Reverse the narrative between the Victim, Maureen, who was drugged, isolated, gaslit, and threatened for at least a month, and the Offender, Carl, who claimed the Stablers were toxic and abusive and that he was the victim of a fake crime. She fisted her skirt in an attempt to calm down. Every time Kathleen thought about Carl, she wanted to scream. But that just played into the story they were selling.

"I bet you could give one," Joe said. "For teen girls or soccer moms." He had met too many victims who didn't even recognize abuse and he had seen Kathleen in action with Ryan and the other rape victims. She was good with them.

"I would love to do that," she said in a quiet, wistful voice. She wanted to help people that the system didn't see, the way Olivia helped her, saw her. She thought she was finally doing it. 

Joe stirred yogurt and chives into the cheese sauce, mixed in the pasta, and divided it between two bowls. He placed one in front of Kathleen, sat beside her with the other, and started to eat. Kathleen picked up her fork and stabbed her dinner. It smelled nutty and slightly sweet. She lifted the bite to her lips. And then she burst into tears.

The fork slipped from her fingers, clanged against the table, and fell to the floor. Kathleen lifted her hands to cover her eyes. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Hey, hey, shhh." Joe pushed his chair from the table and gathered her into his arms. "Shh, baby, it's fine."

She shook her head. "I didn't mean— I didn't want—" He brushed his hand through her hair, still hushing. She felt so stupid. "I'm sorry," she said again, barely above a whisper.

"Don't be sorry," Joe murmured. "Let it out."

Kathleen pulled back and sat up. Tears ran down her cheeks. "I thought they respected me." Her breathing was shallow and fast. "I don't care if strangers judge me. They'll get bored and move on to someone else." She swallowed a sob. "But these weren't strangers. They knew me for years! They worked with me." She shook her head. "I know— I knew they don't trust cops or lawyers or judges, I get that. I do. But—" She took a big gulp of air and met his eyes, wide with worry and compassion. "But I was always a cop's daughter. Were they whispering behind my back the whole time? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Joe folded his lips and lifted his hand to gently wipe her cheek. "I thought I belonged there. I thought—" Her voice broke. "I thought I was doing good." Joe closed her into a tight embrace as she bawled.

When all her tears were spent, Kathleen slipped out of Joe's arms and frowned at the abandoned and now cold bowl of pasta in front of her. "I'm so—"

"Don't be sorry," Joe said. He kissed her head as he stood and picked up the bowl. "I can heat this up." He placed it next to the microwave. "Or—" He retrieved a box from the refrigerator and placed it in front of Kathleen. "Or you can skip to dessert."

Kathleen carefully opened the box to find a tall slice of golden cake with a ribbon of whipped cream and strawberries, and neon pink frosting. Her breath hitched, and she nearly started crying again. "I don't deserve you."

"You deserve better than me," Joe said with complete sincerity.

Kathleen looked at him thoughtfully. "Maybe we deserve each other."

Joe smiled. "Okay."

There were still boxes in most of the rooms in the new house, but they prioritized the kitchen and dining area, and so far, they'd had more dinners together than not. They all knew it would get harder when work picked up, school started, and the trial began, so they were making the most of it. As in the car, the table was quieter than usual, but unlike in the car, Olivia wasn't willing to let it be. She turned a bright, if slightly forced, smile on Noah. "How was the new school?"

"Seems good." He looked past his mother to see that Elliot and Eli were watching him, too. "They asked us about what electives we might be interested in. Jesse's excited for Band."

Olivia felt a lump in her throat. Her baby was growing up. "What did you say?"

"I wanted to look at all the offerings," Noah said. "They gave me a list and I said I'd email." Olivia nodded. Noah raised his chin. "The coach wants me to be a cheerleader."

Elliot raised his eyebrows. "There's cheerleading in middle school?"

Noah glanced over. "I guess the high school is competitive, and this is like early training to feed into it." He shrugged.

"Do you want to join?" Elliot said.

Noah shrugged again. "I dunno. But it's nice to be recruited." Elliot smiled, proud. "Oh, and there's a garden on the roof. It's pretty cool."

"Sounds like it."

"What about you, Eli?" Olivia said. "What were you up to today?"

"Not much. Room stuff." His hair fell into his eyes as he glanced away. "And I talked to Mira." The young paramedic acted as a mentor for Eli since he'd helped take care of Amanda's labor after Mira's partner was shot. He'd since decided to take a year off from school and train to be an EMT. "I'm preregistered for next month, but I need a parent to go in and sign off 'cause I'm under eighteen."

"Of course," Elliot said. 

Eli’s eyes tightened almost imperceptibly, but both Elliot and Olivia were trained to notice. Olivia sat up. "I can take you."

Eli flushed. It's what he'd hoped for, but he hated to be an imposition. "It won't get in the way of work?"

She smiled. "Perks of being the boss. I'm in charge of scheduling."

Eli smiled, too. "Okay."

Noah looked between his parents curiously. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why Elliot wasn't also a boss, but something stopped him. "How was your day?" he said instead. 

Elliot and Olivia shared a look. Neither wanted to talk about the case, but they'd agreed to let the lawyers interview the boys, and it was as good an opening as any to bring it up. "We went to see Uncle Rafa's new office," Olivia said.

"In the Bronx with Kathleen?" Noah said. Olivia nodded. He sat up with an eager smile. "Can we go see?"

"Yes. In fact, they're expecting you later in the week."

Eli frowned. "Why?" He could tell that his parents were holding something back, something that bothered them. 

Elliot pursed his lips. "Well," Olivia said, "you know that there's a trial coming up."

The boys nodded. "Because Kathleen was hurt at the carnival," Noah said.

"That's right. And Rafa and Sonny need to know everything that happened that day, so they want to talk to you."

"We weren't at the carnival," Eli said. 

"No, but—" Olivia glanced at her partner with a sigh. 

"But you may have seen or heard something before or after," he said. "They just want to get the whole picture."

"Like how I found Lizzie?" Noah said. 

Elliot froze. He was so focused on everything going on with Kathleen and Maureen that he had all but forgotten Lizzie's disappearance was on the same day. "Um, yes," he said slowly. His mind was working overtime to recall what happened and how it might affect the case. He felt Olivia's eyes watching him closely and sent her a silent message that they'd talk about it later. 

"It's a good thing you didn't go with Carl," Eli said. 

Olivia turned back to their sons with a sharp look. "What?"

Eli waved a hand. "Carl took the twins to go get Grandma and said Noah could come, but he chose not to."

Thank God, Olivia thought, though at the time she would have considered Carl a safe adult. Now she hoped to see him behind bars, but she'd settle for no contact.

Elliot took a breath. "We'll all go to the office together." No doubt the lawyers would want to speak with them alone, but he planned to be immediately available if not in the room. He hoped to be there for all of them, but especially for Noah and Eli. They were still minors.

"Can I get Kathleen a gift?" Noah asked. "For her new job?"

Elliot smiled. "She'd love that, kid."

Maureen closed the door on her sleeping twins, leaned back, and let out a big sigh. Her whole life, and her sons' lives, were on hold, trapped in a holding pattern with no rules. She spent every minute of every day trying to convince everyone—her kids, her family, her doctors, her lawyers, her captors—that she was fine. That she was handling it. That none of them needed to worry about her. And at the end of every day, she was exhausted.

She was exhausted.

And she couldn't relax. She didn't have a home or a safe space. She was under scrutiny, always. This whole place was wired. There were probably cameras in the bathroom. Well, no, Olivia wouldn't allow that. The bedrooms were probably clear, too. But the living room, kitchen, hallway, parking garage—most places she was on display. Jet could see her, track her, watch her. And Bruno could hear whatever happened inside the apartment. She wanted to trust him. She did trust him with her safety and her boys' safety. She trusted that his overtures of friendship and care were both benevolent and genuine. But she couldn't drop her guard and simply be herself. There was too much at stake, too much to lose. Anything and everything she did may, might, could, or would result in consequences.

Ryan sat on the couch, thumbing through pamphlets. He looked frustrated, bordering on angry, and just as tired as she was. It made sense. Ryan was stuck in the same limbo she was, trapped between a past that no longer fit and a future that made little sense. Maureen understood Ryan's resentment because she shared it. "What's that?" She rallied her last reserves of energy and pitched her voice to be friendly and calm.

The boy shrugged. He meant to play it like he didn't care what could, should, or would happen to him, but there was an eagerness to please that belied the truth. "Kathleen wants to talk about school."

Maureen raised her chin. "College?" Ryan was the same age as Eli and proved to be bright in the short time they lived together.

"I guess." He shrugged again. His curls bounced the way Noah's did. "I'm supposed to think about what kind of program I'm interested in." Splayed out in front of him were glossy cards describing at least twenty different colleges with programs in science and engineering, art and music, history and government, and everything in between. It was overwhelming on multiple levels, and Ryan didn't know where to start. Growing up, it was always assumed he would go to a top-tier school, most likely Columbia, and end up with an MBA. Just like his sister and just like their father. It didn't matter what he was interested in; there was a path. Now that path was all but closed to him. No one would trust him to be a businessman. Better off trying to be a cop like Stabler, except none of them would ever trust him either. As per always, there was no place for Ryan anywhere. His future was a box of puzzle pieces thrown together in an attempt to clean up. No one knew what the picture was meant to look like. No one knew if they were even made to make one.

Maureen sat down on the couch and walked her fingers through the piles of pamphlets. "Kathleen's a problem solver."

Ryan frowned. "I don't want to be a problem." And he definitely didn't want to be solved.

Maureen chewed her lip. "I don't mean it like that." She looked up and reached a hand out to brush his arm. "It's her nature to plot and plan and overthink." Kathleen was a meddler. She couldn't help it. Ryan pursed his lips. It made him look even younger. "She has big ideas for how to fix my mess of a life, too." Ryan's eyes narrowed. "Not that your life is a mess," Maureen said in a rush to explain. She sighed and glanced away. "I'm usually better at this."

"At what?"

At mothering, she meant, mothering boys, and specifically, mothering wayward boys like her baby brother, and therefore like Ryan. But she didn't want to say that. It would spook him, and wouldn't be fair. Ryan was his own person with his own complicated family, and the lines were already blurred with Kathleen, with Noah, and with Dad. "At peopleing," she said instead.

Ryan made a face. "That's not a word."

"People is a word."

"It's not a verb."

Maureen shot him a look. "So you're a smartass?"

"What?" He shook his head, flustered. "No." Maureen held his gaze, lips curled up just enough to be playful. Ryan swallowed. "Maybe a little?"

"Maybe a little," she said, agreeing sagely, and they both laughed. Maureen sat back and brushed his arm again. "My instinct is to mother you."

"I'm not a child," he said, exactly as indignant as she expected. Maureen shook her head with an affectionate smile that turned thoughtful. Ryan narrowed his eyes. "What?" 

She pulled her knees under her chin and took a breath. "My parents were your age when I was born."

Ryan's eyes went comically wide. "Elliot was a teen dad?"

Maureen laughed. "I know, it's hard to imagine now." Ryan nodded, his expression still amazed. Maureen understood. Her father's intensity was intimidating. It was hard to imagine him as a teen, never mind a teen with a pregnant girlfriend or a tiny baby. He must have been scared shitless, Kathy, too, but Maureen never saw it. Her family was chaotic but solid. Fractured sometimes but always solid, and probably strongest at the fault lines. Trauma would do that. "He grew up too fast. He had to." She raised her shoulders. Ryan met her eyes. "And Kathleen had a rough transition to adulthood, too." Maureen didn't know how much her sister told Ryan, but his expression said he knew enough to understand what she meant. "I think she's trying to keep that from happening to you and Eli. Even though you've both been through so much." Maureen waved at the brochures. "She wants you to have lots of choices."

Ryan folded his lips. He would never say it to Elliot or any of his kids, but in some very direct and explicable ways, Elliot reminded Ryan of his father. They both wanted control. But in this, they were nothing alike. Richard Wheatley had a plan for his legacy. Elliot, Kathleen, Maureen, and the rest of the Stablers wanted to give Ryan the chance to choose for himself. He thought they were naive to think that wanting mattered. But it felt good to know someone cared.

Olivia stood at the bedroom window watching the moon. Queens was quieter than Manhattan, but her apartment was quieter than this house. It was too late to hear kids playing in the surrounding yards and too early for birds or buses. Still, there was a murmur that the higher position and newer windows of her old place kept out. Eli and Noah were sure to still be awake, but they were easily the quietest of the crew, and both knew how to occupy themselves. She could hear Elliot finishing up in the bathroom. As had become routine, she got ready for bed first because her skincare and hair prep took far longer, and Elliot wanted them to fall asleep together as often as possible. Which was adorable if semi-absurd given their jobs. Though maybe that was his point. He'd called it being a gentleman, too, which was also somewhat absurd but adorable. Elliot was a fool in love, and, like the yard and the noisy quiet and the longer commute, it took some getting used to.

Elliot's arms circled her waist from behind, and she leaned back against his firm chest. "Hey," she said with a soft smile.

"What are you thinking on staring at the moon so hard?"

"Nothing."

Elliot shifted so he could see her eyes. "I don't believe you."

She pursed her lips. "I'm thinking how strange it is that this feels so familiar."

"This—?" he said with the slightest upward emphasis to make it a question.

"This." She stepped back and waved her arms. "The house, the kids. You." She glanced at the ring on his finger, which matched the one on hers. "Family. It all feels—" She waved her hands again. "Right."

He frowned. "And that's strange?"

"For me," she said with a self-conscious shrug. "It feels strange for me."

Elliot's eyes flashed with a heavy sadness, but he pushed it away and pulled her close. "It's right," he said, with a fierce conviction. "It's real."

Olivia nodded into his shoulder. The tight embrace calmed her. And excited her, too. But as much as she wanted to let herself get lost in the moment, the rest of the day cast a shadow. There were things they needed to talk about. "How did Noah find Lizzie?" At the time, Olivia was at the hospital with Kathleen and hadn't even known Lizzie was missing until after she was found. So much happened in the aftermath that she'd never heard the full story. She felt Elliot tense at the question and carefully pulled back just enough to steer them away from the window. Once they were situated side by side on the bed, she took his hand and waited for the answer.

Elliot took a breath. "We were all calling her, but Noah was the only one she answered. He got her to say where she was so I could go get her." Olivia tilted her head. "Our old house in Glen Oaks."

"Oh." The breathy response bounced around the quiet room. A single syllable but weighed down by decades of complexity. The Elliot who lived in that house didn't belong to Olivia, and Lizzie went there to find something neither of them could provide.

"She was just sitting on the porch." Elliot sounded far away and sad, lost in the memory. "Spooked the woman who lived there, though."

"How did you...?" Olivia worried her lip as her voice trailed off.

He shook his head and focused on the present. Olivia deserved his full attention. "I identified myself as NYPD. Me and Velasco."

Olivia frowned. "Did you identify yourself as her father?"

Elliot blew air over his lips. "No." He looked guilty. "I'm sorry, Liv." He'd put Joe and, by extension, SVU and its captain at risk for any repercussions that came of his actions.

Olivia shook her head. "I get it." She would check in with Joe, see if any of this could come back to bite them. Elliot looked up at the ceiling. He had been pensive since the meeting. There was a lot on his mind. It was true for all of them, but the day's revelations fell on Elliot the hardest. As long as she'd known him, his identity was wrapped up in his ability to protect and care for his family, and today he had failed. Eli and Noah were being dragged into the case. Maureen's situation was precarious and opaque. Olivia's and Kathleen's reputations were being attacked. Even Kathy's death was being relitigated. Put all together, Olivia was worried and wondered how to bring it up. She didn't want to set him off, to add to his burdens, but it was important to address the feelings now.  Elliot could brood for days, weeks, months, years. Olivia squared her shoulders to breach the silence, but he beat her to it.

"I need to make up with the twins."

Her shoulders dropped with some relief and a great deal of sorrow. "El." Her big eyes wide with compassion, she pressed his hand. 

"I know. I know I shouldn't think that way, but I—" He swallowed, his breath short and shallow. His eldest son's outburst haunted him, rattled him. Dickie and Olivia had some kind of understanding and he seemed to have made up with Eli. But Dickie hadn't spoken to Elliot about any of it. Nor had Elizabeth. It was like Kathleen said, they pretended to be fine until they weren't. But Elliot was not fine. "He was so sure, so angry. I don't think he'd believe it, not really, not more than thirty seconds." His eyes were dark and wet with anguish. "But what if—"

"Elliot, look at me." The surety in Olivia's voice cut through the fog that claimed him, and he lowered his eyes to hers. "Your kids know who you are. You are not a murderer."

"That's not true." His voice was barely a whisper, and a single tear slipped down his cheek. 

Olivia closed her eyes, folded her lip beneath her teeth, and breathed deeply. She looked up with clear eyes. "We may be killers—" His face fell. There was no question in his mind. Olivia's eyes flashed with fire, and she grasped his face in her hands. "We are killers. When needed. When necessary. When there is no option to take or lose."

"Liv—" His voice broke over her name.

"Don't act like you're the only one up on a pedestal of shame." Her voice was ragged with sorrow, anger, and fear, yet clear and steady. "I would kill for Noah or Eli or any of our children." He nodded. He would, too, of course he would. "I would kill for you, or Fin, or Alex—I have killed to save Carisi." His eyes pulsed with revelation and understanding. "I have killed to save myself." She wished too many times that William Lewis had died when he should have, when she did everything she could to kill him. His was the only life that would be worse off and who the fuck cares about him? "Honestly, I would kill to save Kathy without a second thought, and I feel no guilt at all for Wheatley being dead." She spoke clearly, so clearly, and with no hesitation. Her certainty surrounded him like a heartbeat, like life incarnate.

Elliot placed his hands over hers and carefully lowered them into his lap. "I hear what you're saying. I do." She waited. "There's a darkness, too. A truth. I love you, Olivia. Sometimes, there are moments—it's all I feel. Nothing else matters."

He didn't put Kathy in danger, but he didn't protect her either. He knew the people he was hunting were well organized and had a long reach. He didn't think twice about bringing Kathy to New York or about leaving Eli unguarded in Italy. He was focused solely on Olivia. He imagined their reunion a hundred different ways. Imagined her eyes finding his across the ballroom. Imagined the flash of recognition and shock and imagined it morphing into rage. Imagined handing her the award and ducking when she threw it at him. Imagined the sting of her slap across his face. Imagined her storming away, refusing to listen to the explanation he didn't have. Imagined dropping to his knees to beg her to stay. Fin said she'd want him there, that it was time, more than time, but his imagination didn't agree. Still, he'd looked forward to it. It didn't matter if she hated him; seeing her was enough. Just the thought of breathing the same air after all that time was a balm to his soul. He practically bounced in his seat the entire flight to New York. Kathy knew all about his nerves and his overactive imagination. It was why she suggested that stupid letter, why she tried to contain and constrain him. It didn't work. It couldn't. Elliot's feelings were molten rock beneath a mountain named Olivia. Dormant for ten years but never cooled and primed to explode. Kathy was collateral damage.

Olivia licked her lips. "Do you remember what you told Noah?"

Elliot frowned and shook his head. "About what?"

Olivia raised her chin. "He said he felt too much, and he was scared that maybe he inherited some kind of violent gene." Elliot held his breath. It was the fear that united them all. "You said 'Sometimes my feelings are too big, too.'" Her big brown eyes were wide as ever and full of tears. "It's who we are, El. And yes, of course, we want better for our sons, and yes, of course, you should make up with the twins, whatever that means to you. I think, probably, we need to have a family meeting with everyone, Randall and Bernie, too. Buchanan's playing dirty, and I don't want anybody else blindsided." Elliot swallowed. He knew she was right. "But none of that is because they're right about you. Not Buchanan, not Carl, and not Dickie either." She brushed her thumb across his cheek. "Sometimes I think our flaws are the best part of us. I love you exactly as you are. I know you love me the same way."

"Yes," he said in a sharp, fast breath, hot on her skin. 

"For so long, too long, I feared that was the worst part of us." She kissed him with every ounce of love she had, and every bit of anger, too. He returned it all in kind. "But it's the purest part," she whispered against his lips. "I won't let anyone shame me for it. Not ever again."

Chapter Text

The interviews were staggered across two days. Bell was unavailable, and they decided to wait on Maureen. They already had a lot of notes from her discussions with Alex, and their focus should be on her hearing. But everyone else was brought one by one into Barba's conference room and given the same speech.

"This is not a deposition. We are recording your interview, but there is no court reporter and no compulsion to share it with the defense. These interviews are covered by attorney-client privilege." Barba gestured to the man beside him. "Counselor Carisi is lead counsel for the prosecution and here as a representative of the State, but you may ask him to leave at any time. We ask that you be honest with us so we may protect you and everyone else involved. Do you understand?"

One by one, they all agreed.

"Thank you. Now, please state your name and occupation for the record."

"Captain Olivia Benson. I run Manhattan's Special Victims Unit."

Barba wrote 'Liv' at the top of his legal pad. "Why were you at the carnival?"

"We were following a lead on an open case of serial rape." Olivia spoke calmly and clearly. She was a pro at this. "We had reason to believe the perpetrator would be there and set up an undercover operation to catch him in the act."

"Who found the lead?"

"Detective Slootemaekers in the Organized Crime Control Bureau."

"I found footage of the suspect's van at all the previous crime scenes," Jet explained. 

"Why were you looking at SVU's crime scenes?"

A brief flash of anger lit her eyes. She shouldn't need a reason to help catch a serial rapist. "I assisted them with the first one on the fourth of July." Elliot called her in, and he was only involved because he was with Olivia when she was alerted, but it was a police case, and they were police. It was appropriate to use the whole arsenal of talent. "I knew they were struggling to collect evidence because of the crowds. This was something I could do to help."

"Why not engage the Technical Assistance Response Unit?"

Jet looked at him like he was stupid. "Because I'm better."

Barba pursed his lips. "Who decided you would go undercover?"

"I did. I suggested it to Detective Stabler, he got authorization from Sergeant Bell, and we brought the plan to SVU."

Barba leaned in. "Why did you, personally, go undercover?"

"I'm the right age and type to do it, and I have experience."

Jet spoke defensively, and her shoulders were tense. It was a true statement, and there was an argument to be made that SVU didn't have any obvious alternatives. Better Jet than a rookie unknown. But Barba sensed she had other reasons. "As you just pointed out a moment ago, you have more experience with surveillance and technical support. You could have been a part of the investigation without being undercover, and being undercover meant trusting the technical side to someone else."

"This was my op." Anger lit her eyes again. "And the new guy did fine."

"My name is Kyle Vargas. I'm an analyst." Vargas spoke quickly and with far more enthusiasm than the exercise should evoke. "OCCB's technology specialist was working in the field, so they asked me to start early. The carnival was my first day with the team."

"How would you describe the operation?"

"Oh, it was really exciting." Barba frowned. "I mean, I was told that field work is only dramatic on TV, but clearly the people who say that are working with the wrong team." Vargas grinned. Barba stared. "There were so many twists, it was like Mission Impossible! Just you know, fewer explosions."

"Uh-huh." Barba considered for the first time throughout the whole process that it could be worse. There could have been more explosions.

Vargas was still grinning. "Do you like Mission Impossible?"

"I don't think that's relevant," Barba said in a tone that spelled out he absolutely did not.

Vargas was nonplussed. "I've always wanted to be Luther, and now I'm on my way." He thought Elliot would make a good Ethan. 

Barba rubbed his temples. It was working out to be a long two days.

"Let's start from the top," Carisi said. "What was the uh, first twist?"

"Elliot's daughter showed up."

Kathleen sat ramrod straight in the chair, doing her best to hide her nerves. She knew how to be a witness, but this was different. This was about her.  "I was trying to stop my sister from interfering in the investigation."

"You knew about the undercover operation."

"Yes."

"Who told you?"

"Um." She wet her lips. "Detectives Velasco, Bruno, and Slootemaekers."

"All together?" Carisi said for clarification. 

Kathleen nodded. "It was a strategy meeting."

Barba wrote down 'strategy'. "Why were you included?"

"I knew the guy's MO." And I'm dating one of the lead detectives, but she kept that thought to herself.

"How?"

"I found the first victim." So much had happened since then that it felt like a year had passed, at least. 

"She disclosed to you," Barba said. It may or may not have been a prompt.

"Yes and I went with her to get a rape kit."

"As an advocate."

Kathleen bit her lip. That was definitely a prompt. "Yes."

"Was this meeting at the sixteenth precinct?"

"No."

"So, at OCCB HQ?"

Kathleen shook her head. "No." The lawyers waited for her to explain. "It was a bar." Carisi groaned, and Barba sighed. "No one could overhear us," she rushed to say. "It was loud, and we were secluded."

Barba shook his head. "Did you talk about anything other than the operation at this alleged strategy meeting?" Kathleen chewed her lip. Barba swallowed another sigh. "Kathleen, just tell us the truth."

"We talked about Jet's and Lizzie's relationship." Her shoulders deflated with the weight of the disappointing truth. "Jet thought she was pulling away, and I said that's what Lizzie does. I told her to keep trying because they were good for each other." Kathleen looked miserable. She failed them both. She failed them all.

"How did you learn Lizzie was going to the fair?" Barba said to get them back on track.

"From Jamie. He said she went to find Dickie but they thought he was on a date."

"I was following Jet." Dickie frowned at himself. "Um. Detective Slootemaekers. She was working undercover, and I, uh, was helping."

"You're not a police officer."

"No, but—" Dickie stopped. Barba raised an eyebrow. Dickie swallowed. For some reason he didn't understand and she'd given up trying to explain to him, Jet came out of the operation thinking Dickie should go into law enforcement. It was one of only a handful of careers he hadn't ever looked into. He grew up watching Elliot, and nothing about that made him think it was a good fit. Jet disagreed, which was interesting and a bit infuriating, and led to him actively considering it. But he probably shouldn't say any of that. "Nothing. Sorry. Go on."

Barba tucked that reaction away and moved on. "You are Detective Slootemaekers' confidential informant?"

"That's right."

"Did you have intelligence about the operation?"

Dickie looked confused. "Um, what do you mean?"

"Did you know something about the suspects?"

"No?" He still didn't understand the question.

Barba made a note to buy a copy of Confidential Informants for Dummies. "Then why were you there?"

Oh. Dickie sat up straight. "Jet needed back-up."

"There were seven police detectives on the scene. Not to mention all the uniforms working the fair."

"She needed a partner," Dickie said, empasizing the last word in a way only a Stabler can.

Barba was unimpressed. "Detective Bruno was undercover as her boyfriend."

Dickie was equally unimpressed. "She needed someone she could trust," he shot back.

"Are you suggesting Jet can't trust Sergeant Bell, Detective Stabler, Captain Benson, or any of the other highly trained individuals she works with?"

Dickie's expression was a storm cloud. "That's not what I mean."

Barba raised his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Jet's usually an observer."

"This was not her first undercover operation."

"No, but—" Dickie took a deep breath. He had to stay calm and not rise to the bait. "The point of the operation was to catch a serial rapist. My— Captain Benson and Detective Stabler, and the others— they were focused on the criminals and the crowd. I was there for Jet, just Jet, to keep her safe."

"Kathleen showed up first." Fin sat back in the chair, his demeanor casual but concise. "Found me and Velasco. They're dating," he added as an aside. "Kathleen told us Elizabeth was at the fair looking for Richard."

"Did you know Richard was on scene?"

"Not 'til he spoke up on comms." Fin quietly laughed at the memory. It wasn't funny in the context of this interview. But it was fucking funny on its own.

"What happened then?"

"Captain Benson was giving us new orders when Elizabeth appeared."

Barba looked up. "What new orders?"

"I don't know, she was interrupted." Barba nodded. "Richard approached Elizabeth and Detective Slootemaekers, tried to steer his sister away, but she wouldn't go." Fin opened his hands wide. "Things escalated."

"How so?"

"The three of them got into an argument. It was—" Fin knocked his head. "Heated. It became apparent to Captain Benson and to me that Detective Slootemaekers was not in the right frame of mind for the operation."

Barba frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said."

Carisi and Barba shared a look. Barba made a note to return to that. "What happened next?"

"ADA Carisi stopped the recording," Fin said with a nod to the lawyer. "Elizabeth ran off, and Richard followed. Sergeant Bell ordered Detective Slootemaekers to stand down."

"Captain Benson was going to kill the op," Joe said. "But Bruno reported suspicious activity from one of the suspects. She told him to stay on the guy and put Jet on cameras."

"Kathleen was still with you."

"Yes." Joe's elbows were on the table, his hands clasped tightly together. His tension was obvious. "She was worried."

"About what?"

Kathleen's words haunted him. Won't that put someone at risk? A civilian? It'd be better with Jet. The plan. You'd have a stronger case.

"About the crowd of potential victims and about building a case against the suspect."

"In what way?"

"She knew we didn't have good evidence in the other cases." They'd had so many conversations about it that Joe sometimes forgot she wasn't part of the team.

How can four women be raped in front of hundreds of people and no one sees It?

"Recording the guy going after a UC was our best chance to convict."

Barba nodded. "Did you suggest Kathleen take Jet's place as that UC?"

Okay. I'm sorry. I love you.

"No." 

Okay.

Barba waited. Joe's chin trembled. "I didn't stop her."

I'm sorry. 

"I didn't react—"

I love you.

"I let it happen." Joe's voice broke. His eyes were wide and wet.

Carisi reached across the table. "Joe, do you need a minute?"

He shook his head. "I want to get this over with."

Barba nodded. "What happened next?"

Bruno shifted in his seat. "Kathleen started a fight with Detective Velasco, just like we rehearsed it with Jet."

"The same script?"

He shrugged. "Not exactly, but same idea." Barba nodded. "Kathleen was good, better than Jet, honestly." He'd kept it to himself thus far, but Bruno was worried about Jet. She was a little too invested in the op and a little too distant the rest of the time. He'd keep it to himself to his grave, but he was relieved Kathleen took over. Jet was teetering on self-destruction, and Kathleen had built in guard dogs. "And Velasco and Stabler, well, their reactions were real. It was better than we planned it. Probably better than we could have planned it." He sat up and shrugged again. "And it worked. Kathleen ran into the crowd and drew the guy out. Captain Benson told me and Detective Tutuola to follow her while Detective Slootemaekers watched camera surveillance."

Barba tapped his pen. "What about Detectives Velasco and Stabler?"

Elliot sat on the edge of his seat with his arms crossed across his chest. "Captain Benson ordered me and Velasco to watch the suspect's van."

"Did you agree with that order?"

Elliot huffed. "Not at the time."

"But you went."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Elliot folded his lips. "It's her call."

Carisi nodded. "Okay—"

Barba held up a hand. "Wait." Carisi fell silent. Elliot looked at Barba. "Tell me more about that."

Elliot looked away. "Captain Benson was the Officer in Charge of the operation."

"You were worried about your record with authority?" Barba said with obvious disbelief.

"I was worried—" Elliot turned back slowly, enunciating every word. "—about my daughter."

Barba took a breath. "Then why didn't you countermand Captain Benson?"

"I trust her."

"Her authority?"

"Her instincts." Barba waited. Elliot sat back and lowered his arms. The tough guy exterior melted into something softer. "I just wanted my daughter safe. Liv and Kathleen wanted everyone safe. That meant this guy off the streets." They were his better angels. "I wouldn't make that call. I couldn't." He pressed his wedding ring between his fingers. "Liv knew that. She did it for me."

Kathleen sat on her hands. They were getting to the hard part, and she had trouble staying still. "I noticed a guy following me and turned on Voice Memos."

"You recorded the assault."

"Yes. On my phone."

"Have you listened to it?"

Kathleen shivered. "No," she said, barely a whisper.

Barba looked sympathetic. "We will have to play it in court."

Kathleen nodded, still shivering, and her head was bouncing too fast. "I know." Barba gestured for her to continue. "He grabbed me from behind." She could feel the shade of sudden weight. "At my waist first, pulled me back against his body and—" She bit her lip. "Played, I guess." She shuddered. Barba pressed his lips into a flat line. "He groped my breasts. Grasped my neck at one point."

"Grasped how?"

"Like this." She put one hand up to her neck, fingers splayed. Barba swallowed. "He licked me, too, behind my ear. He smelled like popcorn." She felt nauseous thinking about it.

"Did you see his face?"

"No, I couldn't look back. He wouldn't let me." Her breath hitched. She could feel his touch everywhere. "But I saw his hands. They were freckled." Her eyes flashed. "I knew it was the guy."

"How did you know?" 

"The first victim mentioned freckles," she said, steady and falsely calm. "And he followed me after the fight just like we expected."

"Did you tell him to stop?"

She blinked. "Yes."

"When?"

Kathleen worried her lip, her eyes focused on something past the lawyers or this room. "He put his hand under my skirt, pushed my underwear away, and he— he—" She gasped. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Barba said softly. "We know this is hard."

She nodded. "Um. He started to— Put his fingers inside—" She broke off, breathing rapidly, too rapidly.

Barba stood. "Kathleen—"

She shook her head. "I can finish." Barba retrieved a glass of water from a corner table, placed it in front of Kathleen, and returned to his seat. She took a sip and squared her shoulders. "I shoved him away, but he was too strong. He seemed to like me fighting back. He wanted me to act up to prove that no one would notice. That no one cared." A tear slipped down her cheek. "I should have screamed. I should have fought harder." Her shoulders shook, and more tears fell freely from her eyes.

Barba reached out to grab her hand. "Kathleen, you did nothing wrong."

She looked up and shook her head. "Do you know how many women I've told that to?"

"Yes," he said. He knew the statistics, knew how many more women were not represented in them. Barba squeezed her hand. "You were right every time."

Olivia took a settling breath. She was ready for the day to be over. "Fin caught up to them first. Detective Tutuola. He held his gun on the perpetrator and told him to let Kathleen go. He said it twice. After the second time, he did it." She could hear it in her mind, Kathleen's whimper as she fell away from the bastard. "Kathleen dropped to the ground, and I called out to her. She ran to me, and I moved her away from the scene and called for medical."

"Can you describe the victim's demeanor?"

Olivia flinched at the familiar clinical language used to describe someone she loved and was meant to protect. "She was in extreme distress, crying, shaking. She had some trouble breathing at first. The paramedic gave her something to calm down. I'm not sure what."

Barba made a note. It would be in her medical file. "You accompanied her to the hospital?"

"Yes. I took her statement and ordered a rape kit."

"Did you stay with her the whole time?"

"Yes." They talked about so much that evening. Too much. But she was glad for it.

"Do you have the results of the kit?"

"Yes." He waited. Olivia felt sick to her stomach but forced herself to continue. "The suspect's DNA matches the samples collected from Kathleen. Both on her body and her clothing."

"An exact match?"

Olivia met his eyes. "Conclusive."

Barba's nostrils flared. "Did you collect the evidence?"

"There was a SANE nurse at the hospital. She collected all the samples and put Kathleen's clothes in an evidence bag. All of it was handed to Detective Bruno and provided to the lab that evening." Textbook, as she ordered. "Kathleen was discharged, and I brought her home."

"To your apartment?"

Olivia shook her head. "No, to Detective Stabler's."

"We've been staying in it since I left the hospital," Jamie said. He twisted his fingers in his lap.

"Who's we?"

"At the time, it was me, Elizabeth, Rich, and Jet." He looked up. "It's just me and Elizabeth now," he said softly. Guilt washed over him. She deserved more.

"When did you learn Elizabeth went missing?"

"Jet texted me. She was in the middle of something and couldn't talk. But she told me Elizabeth ran off, and Rich was following." Barba nodded. Likely, it was right after she was sent into the van, while everything was going down with Kathleen. "I tried to call Elizabeth, but she didn't answer. I called Rich and he told me what happened."

"Everything?"

"Enough." Jamie sounded just as haunted as Lizzie, Dickie, and Jet. This was a mess.

"Did Elizabeth call you back?"

"Yes."

"What did she say?"

You said you love me.

"She was angry. She said I betrayed her trust." Jamie pressed his fingers into his eyes and pushed his tears away before they could fall. "I told her to come home, or I'd come to her, but she was too upset."

Me, too. Goodbye, Jamie.

"She blamed herself. She still does."

"Elliot said you found Lizzie."

Noah shrugged. "All I did was call her."

"How did you know what was going on?"

"Dickie called Eli. He said that Lizzie was missing and Kathleen was at the hospital. Eli told me." Eli and Noah both knew no one would have told them if they didn't need to. And it sucked that they needed to because Kathleen got hurt and Lizzie was sad. But it was still nice to be a part of it. "He tried to call Lizzie first, but she didn't answer. So I tried."

"And she picked up." Barba knew Noah longer than any of the Stablers, though not as well anymore. He understood why Lizzie responded to him. 

"Yeah. She told me she was at the house where she grew up. I think she must have felt safe there."

"Do you feel safe at home?"

"I feel safe with my mom." He glanced at the door. Olivia, Elliot, and Eli were on the other side. "With my family."

Lizzie looked at her hands. "I didn't plan to go there. It's just where I ended up."

"Why did you run?" She shrugged. "Does that mean you don't know?"

She looked up. "It means it doesn't matter."

"For the purposes of this inquiry, what matters is up for us to determine."

Lizzie's eyes hardened. "That's a lot of legalese to say 'you have to tell us'."

Barba straightened. He was sympathetic to Elizabeth, as he was to all the Stablers, but her petulant refusal to explain herself was aggravating his last nerve. "Do you know why we're doing this?"

"You're building a case against the guy who attacked Kathleen."

"No," Barba said so sharply that Lizzie jumped. "He's building a case against us. And your choices are all over it." Lizzie paled. Barba sat back. "Why did you run?"

Lizzie was quiet for a long while, but she was thinking, so Barba waited patiently.

"I'm from a big family," she said, finally. "A big loud family where someone, at least one someone, was always causing a scene." Barba did not need a strong imagination to picture her childhood. He'd met them. "I don't like scenes. I don't like confrontation." Lizzie sometimes thought Dickie got her share of the Stabler temperment. "Jet kept pushing. I didn't know what to tell her, so I didn't tell her anything." She didn't mean at the fair, but she couldn't explain that, either. "It's what I always do. I run. Usually, I escape." Usually, it was more metaphorical. "I didn't know it was an op." She didn't mean for any of this to happen. But it didn't matter.

"How long were you at the house before you answered Noah's call?"

"I don't know." She shook her head. It was pounding. "A lot of that afternoon is a blur. The woman who lived there asked me if I wanted a glass of water. I said someone was coming to get me."

"Lizzie was on the porch when we arrived." Joe carefully described the scene. "She was sitting on the steps with her knees up to her chest. A woman stood in the doorway, and there were neighbors watching. Could be video." Barba made a note. "Detective Stabler introduced us, identified as police, and moved her into the car. The whole thing took less than five minutes."

"What was Elizabeth's mood?"

"She was quiet. Docile. Detective Stabler half-carried her to the car, and I don't think she spoke on the ride back to the apartment." He remembered the family swarming her when they arrived. She'd shrunk into Jamie's arms.

"Did you write up the incident?"

"I did not." Barba made another note to look into any calls to 911 or local police. "I left my card with the woman at the house. I haven't heard from her." Barba pursed his lips. It could be good news, or it could mean Buchanan got to her. "But no lines were crossed. Not by me or Detective Stabler. We would have done everything the same if we hadn't known her."

Barba met his eyes. "I don't doubt your sincerity, Detective, but everything about this case is personal." 

"Can you win?" Elliot leaned against the wall in the conference room as Barba read through his notes. Everyone else was gone for the day.

"If it's tried on the merits, it's a slam dunk." Barba sighed. He felt like he'd been saying it the whole time, but they were still underwater. "This Lizzie sideshow is a problem. The facts are all confused, and not one of the four is a good witness."

Elliot bristled at the word sideshow, but he couldn't argue the point. "What do we do?"

Barba looked up. "I have a few ideas, but you're going to hate all of them."

Elliot smiled small. "I will hold my outbursts until you're finished." He pushed off the wall to join the lawyer at the table.

Barba separated his notes into four piles. "Olivia, Fin, Bruno, and Kathleen are solid. Kathleen needs prep but." He waved a hand. "If she said exactly what she did today on the stand, it's more than good enough." Elliot nodded. "I'm guessing Sergeant Bell goes here, too, but I haven't talked to her individually yet."

He pointed to the middle pile. "You, Velasco, Vargas, and Whelan are okay. You, Joe, and Jamie are too close to it. Too emotional. Some juries, that's good, but we don't know what jury we get. Vargas is—" He shook his head. "Awkward. All four of you told a little too much truth. The courtroom isn't a confessional." Elliot folded his lips. 

Barba moved his hand to the third pile. "Jet, Richard, and Elizabeth are the problem children." Elliot frowned. "They're all holding back. From me, from each other, maybe from themselves. But it's a real issue. All of them would be a disaster on the stand." Elliot leaned over the table to read the notes, but they were in a shorthand he didn't recognize. "I can translate," Barba said. "But the basics are, Richard is in love and it's making him stupid." Elliot sighed and straightened. "Sorry." Elliot shook his head. He'd observed it, too, and before. "Jet's carrying just as much anger as you in a much smaller box. It will catch up with her soon enough." Elliot blew air over his teeth. It was part of why he and Jet got along so well, but that didn't make it healthy. "And Elizabeth—" He took a breath. "Honestly, I don't know. Sometimes she won't answer questions, and other times she can't."

"Lizzie's always had trouble expressing herself. And she's been through a lot."

"I know." They all had. Barba crossed his arms. "How are things with Liv?" 

"And Lizzie?"

Barba nodded. He was present for the blowout at the gathering for Maureen's return home, where Lizzie's knowledge about Lewis drove her to hysterics. That and the wedding, where she'd stuck to Jamie like glue, were the only interactive data points he'd had for her before today. In some ways, she reminded him of Eli, but in most ways, she was her very own flavor of Stabler.

Elliot rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not sure. They haven't talked." Rich reached out to Olivia, and while he wouldn't describe their relationship as cozy, they'd moved past the initial freeze. 

Barba was quiet for a moment. "I don't want to overstep."

"Is this one of the ideas I won't like?"

Barba hummed. "I don't want to push Liv. Especially about this." They shared a knowing look. "But Elizabeth would benefit from that conversation. And if any one of us can help her process the trauma—"

"It's Liv." Barba nodded. "I'll bring it up. But I won't ask her to do something she's not ready for."

"I know." Barba smiled. "That's why I've decided to like you." Elliot laughed softly. "Here's another idea you won't like." Elliot waited. "It was mentioned a few times that Jet was struggling emotionally and shouldn't have been assigned to a stressful undercover op." Elliot pursed his lips. He didn't disagree. "If we lean into that, it counteracts one of our main weaknesses."

"Jet's big speech about how fucked up we all are," Elliot said.

"Right."

"But it's at Jet's expense." It was one thing to quietly sit her down and get her help, it was another to broadcast to the world that she couldn't do her job.

"Right." Barba knocked his head. "And potentially Bell's or Liv's." They'd put, and kept, Jet in said stressful situation.

"I vouched for her."

"Fall on your sword all you like, they have authority." Elliot sighed. Barba glanced at his watch. "Look, that's enough for today."

"No more immoral ideas to share?"

Barba's lips curled up into a smile. "Well." He tapped the last pile. "Noah is very much Olivia's son and would make a wonderful witness."

"She'd kill both of us for suggesting we use him." Barba nodded knowingly. Elliot scratched his chin. "What about Eli?" Barba frowned. "Don't get the wrong idea, I won't allow either of them to do it. But I know how brothers are, and if you tell me one, you have to tell me both. They're gonna ask about it."

"Ah." Truthfully, the thought made Barba warm. "Well, I'm afraid Eli is very much your son."

Chapter Text

Maureen shivered. She was dressed in a sundress because it was ninety-something degrees outside and she didn't want to show up to court with shiny skin, limp hair, and visible sweat stains. But inside, the AC was cranked all the way up, and all she had to fight against the cold was a half-sleeve cardigan meant to keep her skin safe from the sun. Next to her, Alex wore a smart blazer over a blouse to die for and exuded confidence out of every pore. Beside her, Maureen felt as out of depth as a kindergarten teacher. Or a kindergartener.

In fairness, Alex had been in court thousands of times, while it was an almost unique experience for Maureen. The last time was to watch the trial for her mother's killer, this time it was to confront her estranged husband, and next time it would be to support her sister through the trial of her attempted rapist. Given all that, and the cold, stress-shivering was a reasonable response.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I want to throw up."

Alex looked sympathetic. "The law is on our side."

"I think that's his argument." Maureen picked a ball of lint off her sleeve. Carl and Buchanan sat at the table on the other side of the room, their heads huddled together to plot her downfall.

"This is just a preliminary hearing," Alex said. "There's only one goal."

"Extend the restraining order." Alex nodded. Maureen glanced toward her husband and his lawyer and shivered again.

Alex touched her arm. "You're safe here."

Maureen brushed her fingers and nodded once. There were rules and norms and guards between her and Carl. Alex was beside her, Bruno behind her, her whole family there in spirit. Carl couldn't touch her; he had too much to lose. Carl's greatest strength in this fight was how completely boring and normal he appeared to be.

"Just stay calm and tell the truth," Alex said.

What truth? Maureen thought. She lived her whole life with precision, with deliberation, and a mindful determination to avoid the chaos that gripped her parents, brothers, and sisters. She made decisions with caution and care. She never rushed in anywhere. She chose Carl for his steadiness, his stability, and confined passion to her storycraft. Now her life was upside down, and she was unmoored.

The door to the judge's chambers swung open, and the room fell quiet as they all stood in anticipation. Maureen could feel Carl watching her, but she kept her eyes forward, her chin up, and her shoulders tight. She focused on the warmth emanating from Alex to her right and Bruno at her back and refused to shiver.

Jamie placed a tentative hand on the parallel bars. After six weeks of tests and muscle priming, his physical therapist, Ben, and the rest of the team had determined he was ready to start gait and locomotor training. Today, he would take his first steps, metaphorically and potentially, hopefully, literally toward regaining control of his lower body. The next few weeks were critical and promised to be difficult. And painful. Elizabeth was a bundle of nerves. Jamie was trying not to be.

"Up to eighty percent of patients with an incomplete spinal cord injury learn to walk again."

Jamie and Lizzie turned toward the unfamiliar voice to find a young woman dressed in scrubs with her sleek black hair pulled into a low ponytail. Her eyes swept over Jamie's lean body. He'd always been fit, but his arms and chest had filled out some after many weeks of relying on upper body strength to get around. The stranger looked approving and admiring of what she saw. Both her expression and her stance suggested brash confidence and a hint of flirtation.

Lizzie frowned. "Up to?"

The woman glanced over and shrugged. "It can be a pretty wide variability."

"What does that mean?"

"That your boyfriend has a good chance of walking again, but maybe not of being fully functional."

Lizzie's frown deepened, and her stomach fluttered at what may or may not be innuendo. "Fully—what—?"

The new woman smiled. She must be a member of the team to know about Jamie's injury and their relationship, but it wasn't like them to spring someone new without any warning or discussion. Lizzie was wary of new people in general, and the way this one looked over Jamie felt overfamiliar. And now that she'd turned her discerning gaze on Elizabeth, it was even more uncomfortable. "Most spinal cord injuries require assistance." She spoke with none of the warmth Lizzie and Jamie were used to from Ben or the others. She was straightforward, but it was couched in something else, something provocative. Like Jet, Jamie thought, watching them.

"Assistants?" Lizzie said, confused and embarrassed. How much did this stranger know about her part in Jamie's treatment?

"Braces," she said with a laugh. "Crutches. A cane."

"Oh." Lizzie's cheeks burned, and she looked away.

Jamie's eyes narrowed. "Elizabeth," he said softly.

"I'm fine." He reached out to brush her arm, but she shook him off. 

Jamie turned to glare at the woman watching them with undisguised interest, like they were mice in a psychosocial experiment. "Who are you?"

"Dr. Santos." She thrust out a hand with a bright grin. "I start with Dr. Meadows today."

Jamie shook his head. "Start?"

"Ms. Santos is doing a rotation with my neurosurgery team," Grace Meadows said as she approached the small group at the bars. Santos dropped her hands to her side.

"You're a medical student?" Jamie's tone teetered between annoyance and disbelief. Elizabeth turned back to peer at Santos and Meadows. She remained flushed and flustered, but her eyes flashed with ire, too.

"I'm a fourth year in my final rotation," Santos said defensively. "It's just a technicality at this point."

A still glaring Jamie seemed ready to argue the point, but his neurologist reached them and placed a calming hand on both his and Lizzie's arms. "I told Ms. Santos you were an interesting case," Dr. Meadows said as an explanation. "But she was supposed to wait for me to introduce you."

"Sorry," Santos said. "I can be overeager." Jamie huffed. She did not sound particularly apologetic by his reckoning, but there was the slightest suggestion of self-effacement. She raised her hand a second time. "Trinity Santos, fourth year medical student."

Jamie pursed his lips but reached over and shook her hand. "Jamie Whelan."

Santos turned to his left and extended her hand again. Lizzie stared at it. "I don't bite, Blondie." Lizzie frowned. Santos winked. "Unless you want me to." Lizzie blinked. Santos smiled.

"Elizabeth Stabler." They shook hands. "Most people call me Lizzie."

"Not Blondie?"

"No," Lizzie said, perplexed. 

"She has two sisters," Jamie said.

Santos scrunched her nose. "And?"

"They're both blonde, too."

A wide smile spread across Santos's face. So they wanted something more perceptive. "Aight, Copper. I'll think of something better."

The hearing started tense and moved to contentious almost immediately. Alex petitioned for the protective order on Maureen and her two children to be extended up to two years and a minimum of six months. Buchanan argued that Carl had a right to see his sons, and Maureen was a danger to herself and her children, as evidenced by the car accident that landed her in psychiatric care.

Alex stood up. "Your honor, the respondent is the danger. He ignored the order of protection to the point that Ms. Stabler has already had to switch healthcare providers." The judge frowned. "And we have reason to believe that the respondent was doping his wife without her knowledge and against her will. He gave her sedatives at unknown doses without any regard for long-term effects to keep her pliant and reliant on him and him alone." Maureen clasped her hands tightly together on her lap to keep from shaking. Or throwing a punch. "It is likely that his reckless and unlawful actions contributed to the incident described."

"She wasn't supposed to be driving!" Carl hissed loudly. 

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Is that an admission?"

Buchanan touched Carl's arm. "Your honor, does the petitioner have evidence for any of these spurious accusations?"

Alex pulled a copy of Mareen's blood and urine tests from the clinic out of a file and handed it to the clerk. "Toxicology found alprazolam in her system, and at least twenty-five of the fifty pills prescribed to her were missing."

"They were prescribed to her?" the judge asked.

Alex passed over a second set of papers. "This is a signed affidavit that Ms. Stabler—"

Carl sat up, glaring daggers at his wife and her lawyer. "Her name is—" Buchanan touched his arm again, and Carl dropped back in his seat with a huff.

Alex raised her chin. "That Ms. Stabler did not willingly take more than two of the pills prescribed to her. I also submit a copy of her medical file indicating her request for a change in medication. That request was granted by her physician weeks prior to the tests that showed the drug still in her system."

The judge skimmed the document. "Who ordered this test? Is there a police report?"

Alex took a breath. "Ms. Stabler initially disclosed to Manhattan SVU and provided a coffee tumbler to trace evidence. Results were inconclusive, so the lab recommended a blood test."

Buchanan's chest puffed up. "Your honor, Manhattan SVU is under the command of the petitioner's stepmother. Their involvement is biased and prejudicial, and any evidence obtained by or through them should be thrown out immediately."

"We have since filed an official report with Queens SVU," Alex said, passing over a third document. "Their investigation is ongoing, and their office is outside the purview of Captain Benson."

"Captain Benson-Stabler," Buchanan said, almost salivating with glee, "has her hands in every Special Victims Unit across the city, many throughout the state, and has coordinated with operations in Pennsylvania, Ohio, Illinois, Oregon, even Mexico and Italy. She has contacts in the FBI and the state department and is a globally recognized advocate for—" He raised his hands to mime scare quotes. "'Victim's rights.'"

Alex pursed her lips. "We stipulate that Captain Benson is an expert in her field. She's worked for SVU for nearly twenty-five years and—"

"And more than half of that time, she was partnered with the petitioner's father, who is now her husband. No amount of expertise can remove their bias in this case, and everyone knows her reach extends far beyond her office and subordinates."

"My point, your honor," Alex said testily, "is that a criminal investigation is underway, outside the jurisdiction of Captain Benson and—"

"And my point, your honor," Buchanan said, spreading his arms wide, "is that Olivia Benson-Stabler only works with people she can control, including Ms. Cabot, here."

Alex's eyes went wide and dark. "Excuse me?"

Buchanan continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Your honor, these people can't be trusted. My client is not a danger to his family. He has been set up by the petitioner's parents in a blatant abuse of authority. They have taken advantage of her obvious mental illness to convince her that Carl is the problem. The truth is, he wants to protect her."

"I love her," Carl said. He turned toward Maureen and pitched his voice louder. "I love you." She flinched.

"Your honor, please inform the respondent not to address my client."

"So ordered. Mr.—"

"Maureen, please, just listen to me!" Carl stood and stepped behind Buchanana and toward Maureen with his hand outstretched. When she recoiled with a whimper, Bruno stood and moved into the corridor between the two sides. He placed a hand on Maureen's chair and planted his feet, ready to intervene as needed. Carl glared at the taller man standing in front of his wife like he belonged there. "I won't let you take my family away from me."

The bang of a gavel rang through the air, causing Maureen to flinch again. "Mr. Buchanan, get your client under control before I charge him with contempt."

Buchanan pulled Carl back. "Apologies, your honor, the stress of this situation is untenable." Carl retook his seat with another huff and crossed his arms. Bruno stepped back to retake his seat on the bench behind Maureen, but he remained on guard.

"Given everything submitted—and everything I just witnessed," the judge said with a pointed look toward Carl and his lawyer, "I am inclined to grant the petitioner a one-year extension of her protection order."

Maureen's shoulders slumped with relief. Alex patted her hand. "Thank you, your honor," she said.

Buchanan stood. "Your honor, we have not discussed the children's current living arrangement, which my client finds dangerous, unhealthy, and wholly unacceptable."

The judge sighed. "All right, Mr. Buchanan, you may proceed."

Amanda dropped into the beanbag chair in the middle of Nicky's room. He'd finally gone down for a nap, and she should take the time to unpack one or four of the many too many remaining boxes. But he'd been up all night, too, and she was bone tired. Amanda loved being a mother, but anyone who said it wasn't work was a big fat liar.

Speaking of work—Thinking of work?—Whatever—she owed the new chair of her department an email. Amanda still had months left of leave, but he'd floated the idea of an early return. Part-time, just one course, but it would provide a lot of goodwill and help her case for tenure should she choose to move from adjunct to assistant. Sonny was positive about it, and with their ever-expanding extended family, she was sure they could work out a child care schedule that worked for everyone. It would just be a few hours a week after all. She could have Nicky with her for office hours.

But an annoying truth gnawed at the back of her mind. She missed being police. She missed the puzzle. She missed the chase. She missed the adrenaline rush. After she froze in the safe house shooting, she realized she'd never really addressed what happened to her, the shooting that drove her to take the professor job in the first place. She thought she'd moved on, found a path, a calling, a soft, safe place to land where she had space to breathe and more respect than she ever had as a detective. She thought she'd reinvented herself, but the truth was she ran away. And maybe her hesitation to answer the new chair's email and take the next step to make that change permanent was more than fear or regret. Maybe it was all related.

But she couldn't have Nicky with her at the precinct. She had to think about her family, too. She left because she almost died. Her babies needed her. She glanced over at her youngest, his arms flung out with the reckless abandon of an infant. Maybe there was a middle ground. She'd consulted on a handful of cases since she left. Maybe there was something to that. Maybe.

But for now, there were boxes to unpack. "Get up, Amanda," she said softly, as motivation, and pushed herself up out of the chair.

"Prior to the events of May 2023, Seamus and Kieran lived contentedly in a safe environment with both their parents." Buchanan opened a folder of his own evidence and affidavits. He passed a family photo from the previous fall to the clerk. "That is their normal, and it has been disrupted egregiously by their mother and her extended family."

"Their parents are separated," Alex said. "Divorce can be tough on children. We understand that and plan to address it. But it is in the best interests of the children to remove them from an abusive environment."

"Yes," Buchanan said. Alex's eyes narrowed at his crocodile smile. "Our sole purpose today is to extract the children from the abusive and unsafe environment their mother has, unwittingly or not, placed them in."

Maureen's cheeks flushed with both anger and shame. Alex squared her shoulders. "Your honor, the respondent is making things up. Ms. Stabler has a robust support system, a large family with connections in law enforcement—"

"That's the problem!" Carl said.

Buchanan placed a hand on Carl's shoulder. "Your honor, again, we feel strongly that the Benson-Stablers and their coconspirators are prioritizing their own agenda over the children's safety."

Alex rolled her eyes. "Ms. Stabler and her sons are staying in an apartment with building security, overnight FBI and NYPD coverage, and 24-hour surveillance. It is one of the safest apartments in the city."

"I don't want my sons locked up with guards and cameras like they're criminals!" Carl said in a growl.

"In that case," Alex said calmly, "Ms. Stabler is able to temporarily move in with her parents, where she and her children will have their own floor with direct access to the outside."

Carl shot out of his seat. "Absolutely not."

Alex ignored him. "There are multiple adults available to watch the boys as needed, as well as close peers who live in the same two-family home."

"They're all in on it!" Carl was shaking with frustration.

"Mr. Buchanan," the judge said sharply. Buchanan nodded and pushed Carl back into his chair. 

"Your honor, the last time my client spent time with the petitioner's family, they engaged in an explosive argument that ended in physical violence." He passed the clerk Carl's written recollection of the event.

The judge glanced over the story. "Is this true, Ms. Stabler?"

Maureen blinked. "Your honor?"

"Is it true that you and your husband witnessed an altercation at a family picnic that included a fist fight between your brothers?"

"I'm not sure—"

The judge tapped the paper. "Yes or no, Ms. Stabler."

Maureen swallowed. "Yes. But—"

Buchanan's voice drowned hers out. "Carl very reasonably informed his wife that he wanted to get his children away from the negative influence of her family, and within less than twenty-four hours, he'd lost access to Maureen and their sons on the grounds that he was an abuser."

Maureen's chest felt tight, and her breathing was shallow. "That's not how it happened," she said.

"That is exactly how it happened!" Carl said. "I haven't seen my sons since before the fight! Who knows what lies they're all feeding them?"

The judge pursed her lips. "Ms. Stabler, what have you told your sons about the situation with their father?"

"Nothing." Maureen worried her lip. "We agreed to wait until after this hearing to decide what to say."

"You and your husband agreed?"

"No, me and Ms. Cabot, and the boys' therapist." Maureen shook her head. "And I informed the others so no one would say anything out of hand."

The judge glanced between the two parties. "What others?"

Maureen looked at Alex. She nodded for her to answer. Maureen took a deep breath. "My father and Olivia, my brothers and sisters, and their—the people they live with and work with."

"How many people is that?"

"Um, well." She bit her lip. "There's a lot of overlap."

Buchanan leaned in. "Do you see what we mean, judge? The lines between personal and professional are blurred and have been for over twenty years. Captain Benson-Stabler's entire career has been built on her ability to wield control over the narrative. Her detectives manufacture evidence." Buchanan sneered at Alex. "Her prosecutors manipulate the facts. Her partners utilize brute force and threaten violence. Carl is hardly the only victim of her machinations. In fact, another of my clients is heading to trial for the counterfeit rape of Maureen's sister."

"And that's the only reason Mr. Buchanan is here," Alex said angrily. "To sow doubt in his criminal case."

"No, I am here to get justice for all the victims of Captain Benson-Stabler's vendetta against men."

"Captain Benson's only vendetta is against rapists." Alex spit out the last word. 

Buchanan smirked. "Thank you for getting that on the record." Alex twitched and looked away. Damn him. She curled her fingers into a fist to regain her composure, but Buchanan went on. "Olivia Benson's father raped her mother. He was never arrested or convicted, and she has been relitigating the case her entire adult life."

Alex sucked in a horrified breath. "How dare you?" How the fuck did he even know that?

"How dare you, Ms. Cabot? How dare you defend corruption in an office dedicated to protecting the most vulnerable?"

"You defend murderers, rapists, child molesters, domestic abusers—" Maureen had never seen Alex so angry. "You'd defend a genocide if it got you press and paid you well."

"I believe in due process," Buchanan said with a smile like a shark. He turned back to the judge. "For at least the last decade, SVU has been shaped by Captain Benson's myopic vision of a world populated by victims and villains. Kathleen's alleged assault was cooked up by her boyfriend, Detective Velasco, at the behest of his boss, and Carl's alleged abuse was cooked up by this one." He pointed at Bruno, glowering in the galley behind Maureen.

The judge huffed. "Who are you then?"

He stood. "Detective Terry Bruno, your honor. Manhattan SVU."

"He's corrupt, judge," Carl said in a tone that reeked of desperation. "He's seducing Maureen away from me on Benson's orders."

"That's absurd," Alex said sharply. "Detective Bruno is acting as a bodyguard because the respondent keeps ignoring our legally binding restraining order."

"Yes, the situation is absurd," Buchanan said. "But whatever cover story you're peddling, the reality is Detective Pretty Boy over here—" He gestured to Bruno again. "—is living with your client while she remains married to mine."

"That's her right," Alex shot back.

The judge sat up. "Ms. Stabler, what is your relationship to Detective Bruno?"

"We don't have one," Maureen said, but her flushed cheeks told a different story. "We're—" She shook her head, clearly embarrassed. "Friendly, I guess, but everything is entirely professional."

"Is he being paid overtime?" Buchanan said.

Maureen glanced at him with confusion. "Why would I know that?"

Buchanan grinned. "Judge, I do know that. Police salaries are public record." Maureen furrowed her brow. "Detective Bruno is not being paid extra for the many hours spent 'protecting' Ms. Stabler." He smacked his lips. "He must be getting something else out of this arrangement."

"I'm not a prize," Maureen said, indignation all over her face.

"It's nothing like that," Bruno said at the same time, his features equally outraged. 

"And even if it was, it would be irrelevant to the topic at hand," Alex said definitively. "Maureen has filed for divorce. She can do whatever she wants with whoever she wants to."

"For the record, your honor," Bruno said with a glance at the court reporter, "I am temporarily receiving an additional monthly stipend from the FBI."

"The FBI is paying you to sleep with my wife?" Incensed, Carl pushed past Buchanan to reach the couple. Bruno placed his arm between Carl and Maureen with a pointed look.

"I am not sleeping with him!" Maureen screeched. "He's there to protect Ryan."

"Ryan—Ryan Wheatley?" Carl turned toward Maureen. "You have my kids living with a criminal?"

"He's not a criminal, he's a kid." Maureen had gotten to know Ryan over the last week, and he was nothing like the spoiled rich boy she expected. He reminded her of Eli or Noah, quiet and kind most of the time.

"He tried to kill his father."

"His father tried to kill your son!"

"The FBI put him in danger in the first place, and now you're relying on them for 'safety.'" Carl said the word like it was an illusion. "How many of their lies are you going to swallow, Maureen?"

She blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"Ryan knows something, doesn't he?" Maureen shook her head in confusion. Carl glanced between her, Alex, and Bruno. "That's why your father's protecting him. He knows something. Something Elliot can't let out. Something incriminating."

Alex's eyes flickered to Buchanan. He could barely contain his glee. Carl sounded unhinged, but he was planting the seeds of conspiracy and corruption as if it were choreographed. Alex's lips flattened into a straight line. 

Maureen stared at her husband in disbelief. She'd slept at his side for a decade, but the man in front of her was unrecognizable. "What happened to you?" she said in a frightened whisper.

Buchanan cleared his throat. "Your honor, clearly this situation is wildly inappropriate for two young children. We request that the twins be removed from their mother's care immediately and a restraining order be placed against her and her entire extended family, including all of the various detectives sleeping with—excuse me, living with each of them."

"What?" Panic gripped Maureen. "No! You can't—!"

"We have secured a house in Albany for Carl and the children." He passed a glossy real estate prospectus to the clerk. Maureen recognized it from the morning she chose to leave.

"You can't take my children!"

Buchanan passed over another paper. "The twins' paternal grandparents have also agreed to take temporary custody if necessary." Alex kept her face neutral, but inside, she was swearing; that sounded too much like a reasonable compromise.

"No." Maureen's face was streaked with tears. "That's so far away. School is starting soon, and soccer, and they've already missed so much."

"Let me take them to Albany," Carl said.

"Their friends are here." She shook her head furiously. "And their doctors, their— The therapist said they need stability."

"You call this stability?"

Maureen aggressively wiped her eyes with desperation to appear calm. "I'm their mother. They need me."

Carl grabbed her wrist and yanked her close. Maureen gave out a yelp. "I'm their father," he said with wild eyes.

"Let her go," Bruno said, his hand on the hilt of the gun at his waist. Carl snarled and shoved Maureen toward him. She stumbled into Bruno's arms and closed her eyes.

"All right, enough." The sound of a gavel rang through the room again. Jesus Christ, the judge thought. How did I get saddled with this mess? Benson was a thorn in the brass's side, but also a darling. There was literally no safe way to rule on her involvement—which was most of Buchanan's argument. But Carl came across delusional and combative, and Buchanan's reputation suggested Cabot was right about him. The judge was mostly convinced she and Maureen were on the side of good and right. Realistically, the NYPD needed that; another corrupt SVU would be a disaster on every level. Unfortunately, neither gut instincts nor brand loyalty mattered, for ill or good, and the evidence could go either way.

"I need to think about this," the judge said, silently adding, and do an independent review of the facts. And look into getting this case reassigned. "We're in recess until Monday."

Maureen felt her stomach drop. "What does that mean?"

"It's okay," Alex said. It was extremely far from okay, but she had to keep Maureen calm. "The TRO remains in place until a decision is made." She pressed Maureen's hand. "Go home, hug your kids, and try to relax." Maureen hugged her arms to her chest and swayed in place. Bruno touched her shoulder, and she started to lean into it, thought better of it, and pulled away with another deep blush. She lowered her arms, and his hand dropped to her back. Alex swallowed a sigh. It would bolster Buchanan's case if there was anything going on between Maureen and Bruno. It wasn't fair, but it was true, and she hoped for their sake the blush only indicated embarrassment. "I'll call you tomorrow to make a plan." She had to talk to the rest of the legal team. If Maureen were anyone else, Alex would start making arrangements to hide her and the kids, probably out of the country. "We'll figure it out."

Maureen nodded and let Bruno lead her out. 

"Well?"

Dickie looked up from his laptop to find Jet had moved from her work station in the corner to the seat beside his at the kitchen table. She was occupied with an assignment from the FBI all afternoon, and he was absorbed with his own work, or more honestly, his own thoughts, and hadn't realized she finished. His cheeks flushed at her sudden proximity. She smelled like almond soap. "Well, what?"

"The filing deadline is tomorrow." Jet pulled her feet up onto the chair and wrapped her arms around her legs. "Did you complete the form?"

"Yes, but—" He fell silent.

"But what?"

Dickie sighed. "I still don't know if it's a good idea."

"Why?" Dickie pursed his lips. Jet tilted her head so her ear rested on her knee. Her wide eyes were focused entirely on him, waiting for an answer, a truth. Both flooded his thoughts, but they all rang hollow. She would say he was complaining, deflecting, avoiding, and she would be right.

"Well, for one, my whole family will laugh." When in doubt, self-deprecate, he thought. He learned that from Lizzie.

"Elliot won't," Jet said with a surety that made him pause. She was right about that, too. Laughter wasn't exactly his father's go-to reaction these days, or ever.

"Yeah, but—" He fell silent again, and again she waited with wide-eyed patience. "I don't think he'll approve either."

Jet considered. "Because of you or because of him?"

Dickie shook his head. "Does it matter?" He spoke under his breath, more to himself than her, but Jet sat up with a frown. 

"Of course, it matters."

Dickie looked away. "Because of both, probably." Ugh, he sounded like a petulant child. Jet was waiting again, with her big eyes and pouty lips, and he felt even smaller. "I'm not—" He sighed, let go, dug deep, and tried to explain. "When I was a kid, I wanted to be just like my dad." To young Richard, Elliot was a superhero. A warrior for justice who protected women and children. "But he left the force just before I started college, and he was wrecked." To this day, he doesn't really know what happened. None of them ever talked about it, the dark cloud that took over their father for weeks, months, years. "Your parents are rocks, you know?" Jet's eyes said she didn't, and she did. "They're the foundation, and as cliche as it sounds, you need that the most when you leave home." Jet nodded. She understood. "But Dad was a ghost, and Mom worked so hard to—" He shook his head, tears in his eyes. "She tried to hide it, but I could hear her cry, and I could see how scared she was." The memories haunted him still. He took a deep breath. "After that, I didn't know what to be anymore, so I just didn't become anything." He disappeared into mediocrity and boredom. It seemed safer. "I've had so many stupid jobs, and I don't care about any of them."

"You cared about mine."

Dickie looked up to find her eyes soft and kind. "What?"

"You cared about my job. You made sure I could do it."

Dickie shook his head. "I cared about you, Jet. You. Not your job." Some would say it was right. Appropriate. Romantic, even. But he didn't think Elliot or Jet would be among them.

Jet pulled her lip through her teeth and raised her chin. "Why did your father become a cop?"

"For his family." Dickie didn't know the whole story, but he knew the truth. Elliot stepped up to take care of his young wife and daughter, and he became a cop like his father to make a point. It was the easiest and the hardest thing he could choose.

Jet nodded. "He cared about you?"

"Yeah, but that's not—" He shook his head with frustration. "It's not the same." Elliot had a wife, kids, and responsibilities. Dickie had none of that. Nor any direction.

"Okay." Jet took a breath. "Why do you think Olivia became a cop?"

"I don't know," Dickie said, his annoyance clear. He didn't know anything about Olivia. That should be obvious.

"Guess," Jet said, unmoved by his ire.

Dickie blew air over his lips. Olivia was a warrior like his father. More so, she never left. Never tried to be anything or anyone else. Because she was committed, even when it hurt. It was a calling. A mission. A summons. "Because she wants to help people?"

"Yeah," Jet said in agreement. "Because she cares about them."

Dickie shook his head with frustration. He felt tears behind his eyes. "I don't get why this is so important to you."

Jet chewed her lip. "You made me feel safe, and not a lot of people can do that." Dickie met her eyes. Jet looked away. "Look, if you don't want to do it, don't." She picked at invisible lint on her sleeve. "But if you're only afraid of what your father or your sister might say—" She shrugged. "Just don't tell them."

"Yeah, because that worked out so great last time," Dickie said in a low, angry voice.

Jet's eyes were wide and wet. Did he blame her? He probably should. She was to blame for a lot of things. She stood abruptly. "Do whatever you want, I don't care." She turned to escape before he saw how big a lie that was, before he saw exactly how much she hurt. But he ran after and grabbed her wrist, and she stopped short. 

"I'm sorry." His eyes said it was true, but she couldn't trust it. "I'm sorry." He tugged her wrist, curled her into his arms, and pressed his lips to the top of her head. "I'm sorry. I'll submit it."

Elliot stopped in the doorframe of Eli's room. Dinner had been quiet with everyone lost in their own thoughts after the afternoon of interviews. Elliot had a list of things to do, conversations to have, and Olivia was at the top of it. But he wanted to give her a breather and a chance to cool down before he put her on the spot about Barba's ideas, Lizzie's issues, the twins in general, and the trial at large. She'd seemed okay at dinner, preoccupied like the rest of them, but present. Like Barba said, she was a pro at this. Still, he knew it had to weigh on her, and when she announced she was going for a walk, rather than suggesting it, he read between the lines and let her have the alone time. Soon after, the boys, too, disappeared into their rooms. When he passed Noah, he was on the bed with headphones, his hands moving through the air, and his eyes bright. He'd waved at Elliot's upturned eyebrow and given a thumbs up before returning to his replicated choreography. Satisfied, Elliot moved on to his now middle son.

Eli was seated on the floor, propped against the bed to read one of the manuals Mira had gifted him. Training would start in just over a week now, and he was determined to be as prepared as possible.

"Hey, bud," Elliot called softly.

Eli looked up. "Dad?" Elliot motioned to the floor beside him. Eli frowned, but he put the book down and nodded for his father to come in.

Elliot settled beside his son and got straight to the point. Eli made it clear a while ago that he preferred open communication to equivocation. It was one of the reasons he got on so well with Kathleen. "Mr. Barba thought maybe you needed to talk."

Eli frowned. "What do you mean?"

"What'd he ask you about today?"

Eli picked at a thread on his jeans. Preferring open communication didn't mean it was easy. "We talked about the day of the carnival, how there was a plan for board games at Maureen's, but it never happened, and why."

"Okay," Elliot said. 

Eli took a breath. "And we talked some about the day before. At the precinct." 

Elliot folded his lips. Noah's blow-up, Olivia's panic attack, Eli's stolen file. "What did you say about that?

"I confirmed who was there and that there were a lot of emotions."

Elliot nodded. 'A lot of emotions' was putting it mildly, and he wished once again that he'd tried harder to get the sting called off the next day. He should have told Bell to move it. Olivia probably would've shut him out for at least a week, but it would have saved a lot of people a lot of heartbreak. 

Eli swallowed. "I said it was my fault. If I didn't take the file, or ask for her help, or if I said something before—  I didn't mean for—" He felt tears welling up and shook his head in anger. "I was trying to do the right thing, the respectful thing."

Elliot frowned. "What do you mean?" Eli bit his lip and lowered his eyes, worried and hesitant. A sense of foreboding washed over Elliot, and he didn't like it one bit. "Eli, what did you say?"

"Mr. Barba asked me if I witnessed her panic attack," Eli said, barely above a whisper.

"At the precinct," Elliot prompted.

Eli nodded. "He asked how it made me feel, if I was scared or—" He shrugged.

"Were you?"

"No, I was ashamed. It was my fault," he said again. Elliot understood what Barba meant about him being too honest. "I was scared for her. And I just wanted to fix it. I wanted to fix her. I wanted—" A tear slipped free. "I'm scared for her."

Elliot moved closer and offered an arm for comfort, but Eli curled in on himself. Something was eating his son up from the inside. "Eli, you can tell me."

Slowly, Eli raised his eyes. "I said it wasn't worth it. A trial won't make anything better, and it'll probably make a lot of things worse." His chin trembled. "Please don't tell Kathleen."

Elliot opened his arms, and this time Eli fell into them and cried until his tears were spent. Elliot brushed a hand through his hair and worried he was right.

Chapter Text

Carmen greeted everyone as they came inside, her mind making mental notes. Kathleen was first, laden with three boxes of pastries. It was at least one box too many, but that was what Carmen had come to expect from Kathleen. She never did anything by half; rather, she did everything by at least one-third too much.

"I can watch the front if you want," Kathleen said, her boxes teetering and her cheeks flushed with the exertion of carrying them in. They still didn't have a receptionist. Barba said Carmen was discerning, but Kathleen suspected there was something more to it. She just wasn't sure what.

"Nah, you go deal with that," Carmen said with a nod toward the boxes. "Prob'ly wanna move the coffee setup into the conference room, too."

Kathleen nodded. "Okay. But if you do ever want a break—"

"I know where to find you." Carmen smiled. She liked Kathleen. She was weird, but it was a good weird.

Rafael arrived next, fifteen or twenty minutes later. "Still haven't found anybody good enough?" Carmen shook her head. "I thought you were positive about the last round of resumes." Carmen shrugged. Barba smiled. "That was before you met them in person," he surmised.

"Vibes were bad," she said. Carmen had interviewed nine people in person so far. Five didn't meet her standards, one she caught trying to sneak a bug into Kathleen's office, and she was pretty sure the other three were plants sent to spy for the defense. She was keeping her suspicions to herself for now, but she had Jet running some background checks, and they'd installed better surveillance for the lobby and exterior.

"Just don't blame me that you're stuck out here."

"I only blame you for everything else, boss."

They shared a quiet laugh, and he headed into the conference room.

One by one, the other attorneys arrived. Carisi was flustered, and his batteries were running low. The Stabler case was both high profile and personal, and the poor guy had an infant at home to boot. He greeted Carmen politely, but shortly, and sped off to find some coffee. In stark contrast, Trevor Langham stopped to have a full-on conversation. It was his first time at the office—he'd been consulted at the beginning, but after the hearing, Alex decided the twins needed their own representation—and he seemed vaguely impressed. In their few interactions back at the courthouse, he'd come across as charming but kind of empty. Maybe he'd mellowed, or maybe she had, but she revised her opinion from empty to innocuous.

Alex was something else. Carmen had heard stories about Cabot back in the day—you can't fake your death and not gain a reputation. The stories described her as a hardass bitch, so, of course, Carmen was inclined to like her. The real Alex was softer than she expected. But not today. Today, she was fiery and fierce like a dragon. She stopped at the front desk and held out a thumb drive. "Can you print out a couple copies of this transcript?"

"Sure," Carmen said breezily, taking the drive and plugging it into a laptop. "And hello."

Alex blinked. "Sorry. Hello. And thank you." She knocked her knuckles once on the desk and sped off. "Oh." Alex stopped and turned around.

"I sent 'em to the conference room printer," Carmen said. "Kathleen or Rafael will have to put in their code."

Alex nodded. "Thanks." She disappeared into the conference room.

Stabler, Bell, and Jet arrived together. "Coming from the office?" Carmen asked her new friend. She met Jet at the backyard wedding, and they hit it off immediately.

Jet nodded. "We last?"

"No, Benson's not here yet." Elliot glanced over, but he didn't say anything. Carmen heard stories about him, and them, back in the day, too. The gossip about Benson and Stabler was legendary, and Carmen had been sad to miss their heyday. But now she was third row center for the current drama, and it felt a little bit like a movie. She only hoped it had a happy ending. "Give this back to Cabot, will you?" She held out the thumb drive, and Jet accepted it with a little salute. The OCCB trio headed inside.

It took another twenty minutes or so for Benson and Tutuola to arrive. She was keyed up and he was laid back, all of which was familiar to Carmen. She'd witnessed Benson march into Barba's office on a tear at least a dozen times. The lady was larger than life on her lowest day, and Carmen respected it. Respected her more than anyone, excepting her boss. "Everybody's in the back," Carmen said when they paused at the desk.

"Thank you, Carmen," Olivia said.

"Any of y'all need anything, let me know."

The captain glanced at her second and back again. "Can you make sure nobody else comes in?"

"Of course. I'll lock the front." They weren't expecting any other clients or visitors, but Carmen understood the need to hunker down. Jury selection was slated to start next week, and the chatter was ramping up. Carmen found paranoia prudent. "And we have new cameras. A Slootamaekers special."

Olivia reached out and pressed her hand. "Thank you," she said again, with a deep sincerity. Carmen nodded, and the last two members of their justice league walked into the conference room.

Billie skipped excitedly into the lobby of the dance school. It was exactly like she imagined it would be. Wooden floors and brick walls, dim lighting, and the distant sound of a piano. Two bulletin boards were covered with flyers for events, shops, tutors, coupons, musicians, seamstresses, and competitions, followed by a third board, as organized as the other two were messy, with a calendar and various class notices. Toward the end of the hall, opposite the corner office that preceded the parallel corridor of classrooms, was a collection of carefully curated photographs. Color photos of the school's students were artfully placed between black and white images of ballet greats. Billie stopped in front of the display with a big grin.

"Billie, I told you to slow down." Amanda grabbed her wayward daughter's shoulder and turned her round to look at her. "You have to stay with the group." Behind Amanda, Jesse, Noah, Seamus, Kieran, Maureen carrying Nicky in a carrier, Eli, Ryan, and two disgruntled members of the FBI filed into the hallway.

"Sorry," Billie said, with absolutely no hint of an actual apology. "Look, I found Noah."

Amanda straightened with a sigh and glanced at where she pointed. Noah's smiling face was set beside a portrait of Rudolf Nureyev. "Very nice."

Noah shrugged. "That was like two years ago." He thought he looked like a baby.

"Can we sign up now?" Billie said and once again ran ahead without waiting for a response. 

"Billie!" Amanda groaned as her daughter disappeared into the main office. "Noah, your help would be appreciated." She glanced past him to the others. "The rest of you can wait here." Maureen and Jesse nodded. Amanda and Noah headed inside after Billie. The FBI settled by the door. Eli pulled out his phone. Ryan wandered over to read the bulletin board, and the twins followed him like ducklings.

Maureen shifted Nicky from one arm to the other. She'd forgotten how heavy a baby could be. "You don't want to take any lessons?" she asked Jesse.

"I like science," Jesse said, as if it explained everything. Maureen nodded. She supposed it mostly did.

Jesse moved away to join Eli while Maureen made her way toward Ryan and her sons.

"I wanna do Irish dancing," Kieran said as she approached.

"I wanna do boxing," Seamus said in the same sing-song tone.

"No," Maureen told her eldest, definitively. She turned to Kieran. "Maybe."

Seamus stomped his feet in protest. "That's not fair!"

"Kieran wants to do something artistic," Maureen said. Her expression made it clear that this was not up for debate. "Not something violent."

Seamus slumped against the wall and crossed his arms. "Dad would let me."

The quiet statement felt like a slap to the face, but Maureen forced herself to maintain the illusion of calm. "Your father disapproves of violence, too," she said in as steady a voice as she could muster.

"Irish dancing is hard," Eli said in an attempt to diffuse the rising tension. "It's like a sport."

"No, it isn't." Seamus rolled his eyes. "Dancing is for sissies."

"Seamus!" Maureen passed Nicky to Eli so she could grasp her son's arms. "That is unacceptable language. Now, behave or you will end up in a time-out."

"Who cares?" Maureen's eyes went wide. Seamus's face was flushed with anger. His whole life was a time-out, now. "This is boring!"

Maureen stared, momentarily speechless. Eli gently swung the carrier, worried the baby would start crying. Past the group, the FBI guards snickered to each other, causing Jesse to glare daggers at them. The others were too focused on Seamus and Maureen to notice.

"I took kung-fu hip hop for a few years," Ryan said into the growing silence.

"What's that?" Kieran asked.

"Dance and martial arts combined." Ryan shrugged. "It was a lot of like, stances and training exercises. It wasn't about fighting," he said with a glance toward Maureen. "It was about building strength and confidence. And also the history of both styles. It was cool." Maureen, Eli, Kieran, and even Seamus gave Ryan their full attention as he went into more detail about the skills. Only Jesse kept her eyes on the front. She thought she saw someone past the bored guards. A lady staring right at her with eyes that were ice cold. 

Alex paced agitatedly as she ran down the basics of Maureen's hearing. The judge seemed inclined to side with them, but the continuance suggested trouble, especially with the criminal trial starting right on the heels of it.

"The record is sealed because it relates to minors, but that's never stopped Buchanan before." Alex gripped the back of a chair. Her anger was palpable. "It's only a matter of time before the Carl conspiracy is attached to the Kathleen conspiracy that they're already peddling. And it could have legs."

"What have we learned about the blog that started that?" Bell asked.

"Not enough." Jet shook her head with frustration. "I found the startup behind it, but then it gets—" She chewed her lip. "Weird." Jet found it super suspicious that the money trail was obfuscated. It reminded her of something, but she couldn't pin down exactly what. "I have Vargas helping now."

Trevor sat back in his chair. "What's the judge deliberating?"

"All of it," Alex said. "The judge was going to extend Maureen's protection order for a year, but Buchanan brought up living arrangements, and it devolved from there."

"Is custody on the table?"

Alex hesitated a moment too long, and Elliot sat up with a jerk. "Carl can't get custody!"

"I don't think he will. He was belligerent the whole time and openly aggressive toward Maureen." Elliot looked murderous. Olivia pressed his thigh in an attempt to keep him calm. "But he brought up his parents, and that worries me."

Trevor flipped through the file. "They live out of state." He looked up. "Even if Maureen was deemed unfit—" Olivia pressed down on Elliot's leg again, and harder. "—the twins have plenty of close relatives here in the city."

Alex pursed her lips. "They are claiming the entire Stabler family is abusive and every SVU in the city working for Captain Benson and therefore corrupt."

"Well, that's ridiculous," said Barba.

"I know," said Alex. "But it could be reasonable doubt." Her words hung in the air for an uncomfortable moment.

Fin huffed. "So, what do we do?" From his perspective, there was too much planning and not enough acting going on.

Trevor waved around the room. "Who of the Stablers has the best case for custody?"

"Maureen," Elliot said angrily.

Alex nodded. "I agree. But that said, she doesn't have a way to support herself and her children alone."

"She doesn't have to," Elliot said. "She has us." His tone and expression were stone. Alex raised her hands in surrender. 

Trevor looked through the file again. "Well, Kathleen's at the center of the criminal trial." He glanced up at her. "Sorry." She shook her head. This whole conversation hurt, but it wasn't about her feelings. "Richard or Elizabeth?"

"Lizzie's a teacher," Olivia said. "And she lives close enough to bring the boys to their old school." Trevor made a note.

"They should be with us," Elliot said. He looked at Olivia. "You and me and the boys and the Carisis." Olivia's eyes were wide with compassion. Elliot's voice was breaking. "All three of them should be with us."

Trevor made another note, but Alex shook her head in frustration.

Barba scrunched his nose at her. "What aren't you saying?"

Another uncomfortable moment passed. Alex's eyes moved slowly from Barba to Olivia.

"No," she said sharply.

"Yes." Alex's shoulders trembled, but she stood her ground. "I want to send them away."

Olivia shook her head. "If Maureen takes the kids out of the city, she will be charged with kidnapping. She could lose custody forever. And go to prison!"

A heavy silence fell over the room. Alex glanced around to determine that most of the company agreed with Olivia. But Elliot's eyes told a different story.

"The judge isn't fooled by Carl," Alex said, "but if his parents get custody, it will be so much easier for him to run with them if he thinks the tide is turning. And Buchanan knows a lot of creeps who could help."

"But why would they? Carl's not exactly a made man," Bell said. 

Alex turned to Elliot and Olivia. "We have to assume they're using Carl to get to you."

Kathleen swallowed. "Who's 'they'?"

"Good question," Elliot said. It couldn't be just Buchanan, especially if Jet couldn't find the people behind the smear on Kathleen. Someone was covering their tracks. Someone established and sophisticated.

Bell narrowed her eyes. "Elliot has a lot of enemies, on and off the force, in and out of prison, and plenty of people would want to see Olivia taken down."

Barba turned to Alex. "Did Buchanan or Carl say anything that could be linked to a wider conspiracy?"

"Nothing stood out to me." She waved at the transcript. "But he knew things—" She glanced at Olivia. "Things he shouldn't know." Barba picked up the record and started to skim.

Kathleen hugged her arms to her chest. "Do you really think Maureen's in danger?"

Alex sighed. "I think Carl is unpredictable. He wasn't acting like he wanted to prove something in court."

Kathleen swallowed. "What was he acting like?"

"Like a man willing to do anything to get back the family he feels entitled to." Elliot closed his eyes. Unpredictable and entitled men were the most dangerous.

Barba breathed in sharply. 

Alex looked over. "What did you find?"

"Here." He pointed and read aloud. "Buchanan says, 'for at least the last decade, SVU has been shaped by Captain Benson's myopic vision of a world populated by victims and villains.'"

"Why only the last decade?" said Bell. "That doesn't make sense with a Benson and Stabler conspiracy. Elliot wasn't even in the country for most of it."

"It's how long she's been in charge," Fin said. 

Barba shook his head. "Victims and villains," he repeated pointedly, looking at Olivia.

Her eyes flashed with horror. "Lewis." She said his name like a curse. Olivia raised her eyes to Elliot and Alex. "At the trial. He said my worldview was narrowed to victims and rapists."

Alex swore under her breath. That explained why Buchanan was so happy that she said Olivia had a vendetta against rapists.

"We have to assume he knows," Barba said.

"About Eli and the file?" Elliot shook his head. "How?"

"The panic attack was mentioned in the recording, and it happened at the precinct." Barba opened his hand. "It's possible someone overheard."

"You think my staff are reporting on us," Olivia said in angry disbelief.

"It could be someone you didn't notice." Barba laid it out quietly. "A uni. Security guard. Custodian." Olivia shook her head, annoyed that he thought she didn't know the people in her squad room. Annoyed that he wasn't entirely wrong. Was nowhere safe?

Elliot was unconvinced. "No one said the name 'Lewis.'" The alleged culprit would have had to sneak into Eli's backpack and understand what he saw there, all in the blink of an eye. 

"Oh, shit," Fin said. All eyes turned to him. He focused on Olivia. "You requested the file. Officially."

Olivia paled. "Oh God, he's right. There's a paper trail." She turned to Barba, panicked. "It has all our names on it—Eli, too."

The room went silent again as they all came to the same conclusion. Eli could be called to testify.

After the blow-up at the dance school, Maureen suggested something low-key and outdoors, so they headed to the park. After three playgrounds and the carousel, at Billie's choice, Kieran and Seamus begged to rent a boat, and Maureen reluctantly gave in. They headed out with Eli and Ryan—and one of the FBI, but it was what it was. Back on shore, Amanda and her girls, Maureen, and Noah all got ice cream, and settled on the bank to watch—with the other agent, but it was what it was.

Jesse sat on a section of stone, faced away from the pond, and peered into the crowd attentively. Noah took a seat beside her and followed her gaze, but he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Just a bunch of people out enjoying the summer. "Whatcha looking at?"

Jesse kept her eyes on the scene before them. "I think we're being followed."

"Uh, yeah," said Noah. "By like four FBI." There were the two out in the open, and the (at least) two he knew were hiding.

"No." Jesse narrowed her eyes. "I think it's the people the FBI are here for."

Noah sucked in a breath. "Jess..."

Jesse huffed and turned to face him. "I know you think I'm some stupid little girl now that you have Eli and Kathleen, but I know what I saw."

Noah frowned. "I don't think that." Jesse pursed her lips. "I don't." She shook her head. He grabbed her hand. "Eli's my brother, but you're—" She raised an eyebrow. "You." Jesse looked down at her hand in his. Noah squeezed it. "And Kathleen's like, old." She laughed softly. He smiled and squeezed again. "Tell me what you saw." She looked up to meet his eyes. "Please?"

Jesse took a breath and yanked him close. "Third tree from the left. The guy with the binoculars."

Noah looked as directed. "He's probably a birdwatcher."

"This is the third time I've seen him, and he's always taking pictures."

Noah's eyes went wide. "Really?" He turned to get a better look.

"Don't!" Jesse said and yanked his head back. "Laugh."

"What?"

"Laugh like I said something funny," she said, a direction and a demand. Noah chucked loudly. Jesse grinned and punched his arm.

"Ow!"

"Don't be such a baby." Noah made a face. Jesse peered into the park and turned back. "I don't see the other one, but she was at the dance school."

"And you saw her before, too?" Jesse nodded. "We gotta tell your mom." He started to stand, but Jesse pushed him down.

"First, we need evidence," she hissed. "Gimme your phone."

Noah pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. "Don't you have your own?"

"It sends all the pictures to the family cloud," Jesse said.

"And that's bad, why?"

Jesse looked at him with exasperation. "This is my op, Benson. Now, are you gonna help me, or are you gonna run to Mommy?"

Noah had a really bad feeling about this entire conversation. But he handed her the phone in silence for now.

Barba called for a break and nodded for Kathleen to join him outside to ask Carmen to order lunch. Bell slipped out to make a phone call, Jet checked her various surveillance feeds, Fin headed to the bathroom, and Alex drew Trevor into a quiet consultation. Elliot led Olivia into the back, away from the crowd. Once there, he dropped her hand and leaned back, and she braced herself for the inevitable.

"I think Alex is right."

Olivia shook her head in frustration. "Elliot, we can't—"

He raised his hands to say Stop and Listen. "We shouldn't preemptively run." Olivia pursed her lips. "But we need a contingency plan if Carl or his parents get custody. We can't let them take the kids."

Olivia crossed her arms. "When Alex disappears people, she disappears them."

"When it's over, they could come back—"

"And then Maureen would be arrested." Elliot pulled back with annoyance and rubbed his shoulder. He wanted to scream, but not at Olivia. She took a deep breath and reached up to turn his face back to face her. "We have to trust the process."

"And what happens when the process doesn't work?" Olivia drew back, startled by the ferocity in his voice. Elliot was spitting mad. "The law protected Lewis, it protected Wheatley—and how many others? "Olivia shook her head. Too many, the small voice in her head agreed. But they couldn't give in to that voice, to street justice, or vigilantes. She had to believe in the system. "How many killers has it set free? How many innocents has it killed?" Elliot's voice was raw with pain, and his eyes—

She'd seen those eyes before. 

Panic filled her chest, and she flew at him in a fury. "You can't run away from this!" He recoiled as if shot, but she just kept coming. "Maureen needs you! Here! Standing and fighting!" She pressed her hands into his chest like a wave against a rock. "You have to fight! Kathleen needs you! I need you!" The last word was half sob, half curse. Her fingers twisted into his shirt, both their heartbeats so loud and so fast and tearing her apart.

"Um." Olivia's head snapped around to find Kathleen standing in the doorway in wide-eyed fear. "They—they said they're ready to continue." Her small, scared voice shook as she relayed the message.

Olivia turned and started to push away, to walk towards Kathleen, to escape back the way they came, but Elliot's arm shot out to bar her way. She whipped around to confront him, to demand he let go and to spit in his face, but the look in his eyes stopped her. 

"Five minutes," he said to Kathleen.

She swallowed. "Okay." She looked like she wanted to say more, but bit her lip and sped away.

The building was old, and they focused on keeping the conference room cool, so the air in the back was warm, and Olivia's skin felt sticky pressed against Elliot's body. A storm of emotions danced in the space between them. Olivia's anger was so intense it felt alive, but it was fear that threatened to shatter them both. Elliot shifted to face her head on and dropped his hands to her waist, holding her there, tight and possessive but not dominant. She knew he would let go if she pulled away, and that knowledge kept her in place.

"I'm here," he said. His voice was rough and raw, but clear. "I'm here, Liv, and I'm not going anywhere." She moved her hands to cover his, and he responded immediately, instinctively, to lock them together. "I am beside you, behind you, in front of you, wherever you need me. Always." His thumb brushed the ring on her left hand. "Forever." She nodded once to acknowledge she heard him, though her heart still pounded like it would rip out of her chest. 

Elliot leaned forward to press their foreheads together. "I'm scared," he said in a voice below a whisper. She felt it as much as heard it, his panic hot against her skin. "When I look at Maureen, I see Kathy." Kathy, who died because he couldn't stop it. Kathy, whose killer was set free to strike again. Kathy, who never wanted this life, who begged him to leave it behind. Olivia pulled him close, and he buried his face in her tight embrace. 

"I understand," she said. Of course she did. She carried just as many ghosts as he did, many of them the same. Wheatley was dead, but his reach—

Olivia pulled back with a gasp. Elliot glanced down, frowning, to find her eyes wild with sudden clarity. His breath hitched as the answer snapped into place. He grabbed her hand and they ran.

"Wheatley," Elliot shouted as he and Olivia crashed through the door of the conference room, hand in hand, and breathless. 

The chatter of the room disappeared into confusion. Alex shook her head. "What?"

Olivia held her breath and squared her shoulders. "Wheatley," she said as clearly and calmly as she could. "That's who's behind this."

"Wheatley's dead," Fin said. He shot the bastard himself.

"No, they're right," Jet said, standing. "That's why the blog startup feels familiar. The trail for the death threats went cold the same way."

Elliot looked at Bell, and her eyes went wide. 

"Dana."

Chapter Text

They spent the remainder of the day strategizing. The Wheatley case was transferred to the FBI's Fugitive Task Force when they left the safe house, but since then, they'd mainly communicated through intermediaries based at the Federal Building. Sergeant Bell got on the phone with Assistant Special Agent in Charge Jubal Valentine to request a meeting. Fin looped in Joe and Bruno to keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior at SVU. Jet picked through her data again now that she had an idea of what to look for. And Trevor pulled over Elliot, Olivia, and Kathleen to discuss the custody options while Barba, Carisi, and Alex planned the criminal case. They needed to prep the witnesses and knew they had to cast a wider net than they wanted. With Carmen's help, the lawyers laid out cards with each potential witness's name written on them in Sharpie. Barba spread tape on the table to create a grid and labelled the sections Prosecution, Defense, Rebuttal, and Hail Mary.

Carisi was mostly a quiet observer in the morning, but he would be the one arguing in court. "I still think our argument should be brought by Kathleen, Bruno, and Fin. He carefully picked up three of the cards and moved them under the word Prosecution. "Normally, I'd say Liv, but she's in their crosshairs."

"Maybe that's an argument for doing it," Barba said. "A preemptive strike."

"Maybe." It felt like too much of a gamble to Sonny.

Alex tapped the table next to Detective Bruno's name. "Do you need Bruno?"

Carisi narrowed his eyes. He didn't like the tone of her question. "Why?"

"Buchanan could use him to introduce Carl and the alleged pattern of corruption."

Carisi rubbed his temple. "Because he's staying with her?"

"Because they say he's sleeping with her," Alex said.

Carisi suppressed a groan. The last thing they needed was another layer to the soap opera. 

"Is he?" Barba said quietly.

Alex met his eyes. "They say no." Barba frowned. It was not as definitive a negative as he would have liked to hear.

Trevor had a headache. Based on the transcripts, Cabot's notes, and his many years of experience, getting Maureen an order of protection and full custody of the twins should be a slam dunk. He hadn't seen Carl in person, but on paper, his arguments came off as paranoid at best, and the evidence against him was crystal clear. He had broken the TRO, openly attacked Maureen in court, and there was the potential for criminal charges pending the investigation by Queens SVU.

Moreover, if Maureen were declared unfit, Elliot and Olivia were obvious candidates for custody. Both had job security, and outside of Buchanan's ranting, Olivia's reputation, at least, was sparkling. Their marriage was new, but their relationship went back decades. They had a house where the boys could have their own room with easy access to their cousins and peer friends. It was located in a great school system, but close enough that they could stay put if that was preferred, and there was a wide support system of relatives, therapists, and security. The only issue was the current trial, and it really shouldn't be an issue. Unfortunately, it was in the news and poised to be tried in the court of public opinion.

More unfortunately, the trial snared the entire family, and most unfortunately, Maureen's siblings were inferior options for custody. Eli was too young, and the others didn't tick off any of the boxes Elliot and Olivia sailed through. None were married or in a proven stable long-term relationship. None owned their home, and they'd all recently moved. Their work records were spotty, or messy, or both. Kathleen had a criminal record and a diagnosed mental illness, while Barba's notes described Lizzie as unstable and Dickie as argumentative. Trevor understood why Alex was worried that Carl's parents could come across as the best option. They were older and out of state, and the twins didn't know them as well, but they weren't a part of the mess.

"What about Uncle Randall?" Kathleen said. 

Trevor looked over. "Who?"

"My brother," Elliot said. His tone and expression seemed carefully neutral. Olivia brushed his hand for comfort and support.

"He came up from Florida to help with Elliot's mother," she said. "He decided to stay through the trial and maybe longer."

Trevor pursed his lips. "He wasn't in the safe house or involved in the carnival?"

Olivia shook her head. "No, he arrived after."

"Does Carl know him?"

Olivia looked at the Stablers. "Not well," said Kathleen.

Trevor assumed Carl would argue against any Stabler, but this might catch him off guard. "Does he have his own family? Wife, kids?"

"He's divorced," Elliot said. "Their kids are adults."

"Where is he living now?"

"He's leasing an apartment," Olivia said, "for him and Bernie."

"Do they have space for the twins?"

"No, but I'm sure he'd be willing to get a bigger place." She looked at Elliot. "Or Bernie could move in with us."

Trevor nodded. "Okay, I need a full background check."

Elliot frowned. "On my brother?"

"On all of you," Trevor said. "Can your techie do that?"

"My detective can do that," Elliot said testily. Trevor waved a hand in apology. Elliot huffed but motioned for Jet to join them.

Olivia met Trevor's eyes. "What are you looking for?" she asked softly.

"Anything the judge could hold against you."

Carisi sighed. "A corrupt SVU is their whole argument, so they're going to get Carl and Maureen in somehow. But you could be right that we shouldn't give them an easy opportunity." He moved Bruno's card back to the others. "Fin can report on everything that happened on scene at the carnival." His hand hovered over the names. "Maybe we start with Bell? She authorized going undercover."

"No, listen," Barba said. "Bruno was a direct part of the op along with Jet. If we hold both of them back, and Joe, and Liv—it starts to look like we're scared."

Carisi flattened his lips. They looked scared because they were scared. "You want to go on the offense."

"I want to control the narrative." Barba picked up the card labelled Benson. "What if we start with Liv?" Carisi and Alex looked skeptical. Barba set his jaw. "It forces their hand, requires them to go on the attack right off the bat."

"Buchanan likes being on the attack," Alex argued.

"So we use that against him." Barba placed the Benson card directly beneath the word prosecution. "Maybe leading with Liv opens us up to an early counterstrike, but it makes it clear we trust our side. We're not afraid of the truth, and we get ahead of the story." He glanced at the others. Alex looked pensive, but Carisi's brow was furrowed. Barba took a breath and continued calmly. "If you start with the incident on the Fourth of July, you can introduce Kathleen's involvement from the beginning."

Carisi considered. "I don't know." It depended somewhat on what the judge considered prior bad acts.

Barba leaned in. "If we trust ourselves, the jury will, too."

"I want to agree," Carisi said. "But it could be spun to sound like a conspiracy." The statement hung in the air. He wasn't wrong.

Alex tapped the box labelled defense. "What does Buchanan use to attack them?"

Carisi looked at the four names listed under prosecution. He skipped over Fin and tapped Kathleen's card. "Besides her checkered past, mainly the relationship with Joe." He moved the card marked Velasco into the defense bucket. "And how it relates to—" He picked up two more cards and placed them next to Velasco. "Bruno and Maureen." Barba and Alex nodded. Carisi moved his finger to hover over the card marked Benson.

"Lewis," Barba said. "Or their version of it." He moved the names Stabler and Eli into the square.

Alex huffed. "Jet can be used to prove corruption or incompetence." She picked up a ninth card and placed it in the square amongst the rest. 

They stepped back and peered at the array of names. Benson. Fin. Kathleen. Velasco. Maureen. Bruno. Stabler. Eli. Jet.

Barba cleared his throat. "So, we prep them all and then choose."

"Testimony could start as early as Wednesday," Carisi said. It gave them four days tops.

"There are three of us," Alex said. "We split them up and compare notes."

Elliot left Trevor and Jet to discuss specifics, and Olivia had moved over to check in with Fin and Bell. Kathleen was sitting alone, watching the room and trying to make herself as small as possible without looking like she was doing anything at all. She caught him looking her way and blanched. Elliot swallowed a sigh and dropped into the chair next to her. "Kathleen—"

"I'm okay," she said quickly and loudly. Her cheeks reddened with exactly how loudly, and she swallowed. "I mean, I get it. I know parents fight." Elliot pursed his lips, and her bravado faltered. "I don't want to be the reason." This whole stupid trial was happening because of her. Because she ran headfirst into the situation without any consideration of the consequences, just like she always did.

"You're not." Kathleen bit her lip. Elliot leaned in. "None of you are, and none of you ever were."

Kathleen looked away. It was probably true. Their kids were the reason Elliot and Kathy stayed together, not the wedge that drove them apart. But she wasn't convinced that was better. Nor that any of them had learned anything since. And with everything that had come to pass, sometimes that was a lot to carry. Sometimes it was more than she knew how to handle.

Kathleen took a breath, turned back, and met his eyes. "Are you and Olivia okay?"

"Yes," he said with confidence. She peered into his eyes, looking for a lie meant to soothe. Elliot touched her shoulder. "We're honest with each other."

Kathleen slowly nodded. She understood the difference. Elliot kept parts of himself hidden from her mother. Mostly out of a sense of care, but it meant Kathy only knew the version of him he allowed her to see. "Good."

He wrapped her into his arms. "Love you, kid."

Barba drew back and crossed his arms. "So, we have a plan?" The others nodded. Carisi would prepare his preferred lineup: Fin, Bruno, and Kathleen. Barba took on Olivia and Eli because he knew the Lewis case best, and Alex focused on Maureen and Joe. They decided to hold off on Elliot and Jet because their involvement would depend on which way Buchanan went with the others.

It was going to be a long weekend.

Maureen stood in Olivia's kitchen with thirty-something post-its spread out across the island. She'd been at it for an hour. The boys were in bed, and she thought asleep after an active and somewhat stressful day. She hoped they were asleep, but in any case, they were quiet, and Ryan, too. Maureen's body was just as tired as her children's, but her mind wouldn't stop. So, she tried to rein it in with color-coded organization. 

However, it wasn't working because she couldn't organize anything past Monday. The future was murky, suspect, and threatening. She'd started with categories of necessities—home, school, money, medical, emotional support—but under each one, there were more questions than answers. Everything required money, and money required a job, but getting a job depended on her schedule, and her schedule depended on the boys' school, which depended on where they lived, but where they lived was part of a court battle. Her kids needed stability, and stability wasn't available on any of her post-its.

All the way to the right was a tab that read 'Olivia Talk'. Maureen brushed her fingers over the ink. She'd done a bit of research based on what was said during the dinner party blow-up, and what she found made her blood run cold. She felt like she'd lived in a bubble her whole life, and now that it popped, she was hurtling through horrors at light speed. The psychopath who took Olivia used the court and the press to tear her down, and now Buchanan was poised to do it all again. And Carl was helping. And it was all her fault.

She should have gone to her father first, instead of dragging Olivia into her problems. He would've escalated things even more, a voice in her head argued. 

Okay, Amanda. She could've gone to Amanda. They were friends, as close as family, given everything going on, but not family, and she used to be employed at SVU, but wasn't now. She'd know the process, but didn't report to Olivia and wasn't on the NYPD payroll. Amanda would have been the smart choice. Amanda has an infant, the voice said. And she would have involved SVU anyway.

I should have sucked it up and stayed. Moved to Albany. Played the part of a good wife and mother, and kept my family out of it, kept my family safe. He was drugging you. The voice was getting louder. We don't know that. We can't prove it, but you do know it. Maureen shook her head. She didn't know how to trust anyone anymore. Not even herself. Maybe especially not herself.

He was trying to help, she mused. Even the drugs could be explained by that. I was so anxious about everything. Carl planned a romantic getaway, but I didn't want to leave the boys. I rejected all his ideas. I flinched whenever he touched me. If he's a paranoid, possessive monster, it's because I turned him into one. I should have just let him have what he wanted. That's called coercive rape, Maureen. At this point, the voice in her head sounded almost exactly like her father. And doesn't that just prove Carl's point?

"Are you okay?" Bruno's voice cut through her haze. He spoke softly on purpose, to avoid drawing attention from the two little boys and one near adult in the apartment or the various people watching it from the outside. But he also sounded far away. Maureen shook her head to push off the intrusive doubts. She didn't want to talk about them, either. Her eyes fell again on the post-it with Olivia's name.

"Did you know? About Olivia?"

That she was conceived by rape, he understood her to be asking. "No." He'd learned from Buchanan, too.

Maureen pulled away from the island and hugged her arms to her chest. "It must be such a burden."

Bruno took a breath. "Most people who work in SVU have a reason."

Maureen went quiet, thinking of her father. He didn't talk about it, none of them did, but she knew enough to understand how he ended up at SVU. What Bruno said made sense. She looked up to meet his eyes. "Do you?"

Bruno held her gaze for a quiet moment. He didn't speak, and he didn't have to. She felt tears welling behind her eyes and reached out to press his palm. Bruno closed his hands over hers with gratitude. "It's good to have a place to put those feelings," he said softly. "I'm proud of the work we do." Maureen felt her cheeks flush with the intensity of the moment. Bruno squeezed her hand and let go. He turned his attention to the post-its. "What's all this?"

"Nothing important," she said, still a little flustered.

"Is it important to you?" 

Maureen shrugged. Bruno raised an eyebrow. It was teasing but also sincere. "I guess it's how I organize myself."

"Like your appointments? Activities?"

"Yeah." She waved at the array. "And projects. Twins require an extra level of organization."

"I bet." He smiled.

She could have, and should have, left it there. They had moved past the awkwardness of Olivia and SVU and whatever he'd seen that made him approach her in the first place. She should clean up her notes and say goodnight. Something stopped her. Something that wanted him to see her and understand. "But also my thoughts. Life."

"Cool."

Maureen laughed, but it was half-hearted and embarrassed. "Pretty sure it's the opposite of cool."

Bruno pursed his lips. "Why do you do that?"

She looked up in confusion. "What?"

"Diminish yourself." He knew why, or thought he did. It started with a 'C' and ended with 'abusive husband'. But he wanted her to realize it.

Maureen shook her head. Because by any given metric, she was a failure. Soon to be divorced. Moving in with her parents. Almost 40 and nothing to show for it. A degree she'd never used. Nothing anyone would call a career. She wrote silly romances for other bored housewives. Her kids, her family, were her whole life, and now they were all breaking under the pressure, and she didn't know how to stop it or fix it.

"You know, I used to think that Carl was the only person who really believed in me." Bruno frowned. Maureen shook her head again with a sigh. "Either I misread everything and the last ten years were a lie, or I misread everything and ruined all of our lives for no good reason."

Bruno's frown deepened. "I saw him in court. Leaving was the right choice."

"If he gets custody—"

Bruno shook his head. His heart pounded in his ears. "You can't go back to him."

"If I believe that—" Maureen stepped closer and lowered her voice. "If I believe that I can't go back because Carl—" Her breath hitched. "Because Carl is an abuser—" She shook her head, her eyes wide and desperate. "How can I leave my children alone with him?"

Bruno pressed his hands into her arms. "It won't come to that. We won't let it."

Maureen's eyes filled with tears. "I was supposed to protect them from all of this. I'm their mother." It was the only part of her identity that mattered, practically the only part that existed, and she was failing over and over.

"You can't," Bruno said. "None of us can." He sounded weary, and it made her angry.

Maureen pulled away with a shudder. "I don't want to believe that. That the world is just bad."

"It's not," Bruno said, still weary but also wise. "The world just is. People make choices. Some good, some bad."

Maureen trembled. "What if there are only bad choices left to make?" A tear slid down her cheek. Bruno reached up and gently brushed it away. Her heart raced in response to his touch.

"You do the best you can," he said. "You focus on your kids, and you do the next right thing." His thumb was still on her cheek. It felt like her skin was burning, but she didn't want to move away. "Stay brave, Maureen." There was more in his expression, both a question and a statement, but Maureen didn't know how to respond to either. She closed her eyes and felt his hand slip away.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. Give Mama my love." Elliot lowered the phone and walked back down the hall to the bedroom. Olivia looked up when he walked in and set the book she was reading down on the end table beside her. Elliot dropped his phone on the matching one on his side of the bed. "Randall agreed to meet with Langham."

"Good. Come here." She opened her arms, and he willingly fell onto the bed and into her embrace. He buried his face in her shoulder, and she brushed soothing pressure into the back of his neck. "You're doing the right thing."

Olivia felt him nod as he pulled back and settled beside her. "How'd you do?" They'd all agreed it was important to update the whole family on what was going on with Maureen's hearing, Kathleen's trial, the press push, and their suspicions about Dana Wheatley's involvement. There were a lot of moving pieces, and they would affect all of them. So, they were setting up a meeting for the next day.

"Bell finally got the FBI to confirm," Olivia reported. "They want to have the meet in HQ—" Elliot started to object, and Olivia raised a hand. "But she convinced them to do it at your office."

Elliot sighed with relief. The OCCB suite was small and out of the way, and they installed their own security on the building and the block. It was one of the few places he trusted to be safe. "Everybody agreed?"

"Replies are still coming in." She motioned to her phone, standing upright in a dock on the end table. Its screen lit up with alerts. "But they all will." Elliot watched another alert light up the screen. The booming group chat should be comforting, but it made him twitch. Olivia brushed her hand down his arm. "Jet cleared our phones." He had insisted she run a diagnostic before they left this afternoon. Jet didn't find evidence of bugs or trackers and installed new software to scramble any clones. But it was hard to trust it. 

Elliot pressed her hand to his arm and pulled her close again. "I hate this." The paranoia made them all crazy. 

"I know." Olivia laid her head on his shoulder and cupped his cheek. "It's not forever."

"Feels it." Elliot trembled under her touch. It felt like he'd lived years in the last three months. 

"El?" He looked down to find a flicker of fear in her eyes. 

"I'm here." He leaned in to kiss her with enough conviction to banish the anxiety running through both their bodies and brains. His hand tangled tightly in her hair as she shifted to remove any space between them. "I'm here."

Chapter Text

They chose the OCCB office because the team had installed their own security and could therefore trust it. Jet had programmed both the exterior and interior cameras with algorithms to block and trap hackers, and Vargas would monitor all the feeds across his three screens during the meeting. If anyone did get in, the suite was a fortress. Most of the precincts in the NYPD, including the 16th, had open layouts in standard buildings, but the OCCB squad room was tucked into a fortified warehouse and surrounded by a maze of corridors, storage rooms, and exposed pipes. Each of Bell's team knew at least six ways out. 

The suite was safe, but it was also small, and right now, it was crowded to overflowing, even more so than the last time they were all here, right after the death threats and right before they moved into the safe house. Scola sucked in a breath and counted to ten, overwhelmed with a sense of deja vu coupled with dread. He had really, really wanted to believe this assignment was over, but apparently, the Stablers were the gift that dragged you back in kicking and screaming. Metaphorically.

Bobby was still undercover, and Carl was not invited, though he would be a topic of conversation. But in addition to Vargas they had gained Randall, Ryan, Velasco, Bruno, Barba, Cabot, Langham, Carmen, and Nina Chase from the FBI fugitive task force, as well as Sonny's mother and the FBI's Maggie Bell who were set up to watch Maureen's boys, Amanda's girls, and baby Nicky in the back room with Maggie's partner OA outside. Vargas was set up in Bell's office with the door open for communication. Ostensibly in charge, Bell, Scola, and Nina stood in the center front with a whiteboard, and the rest spread out across the space in small clusters surrounding the various desks. Elliot and his family sat at his desk, the twins joined Jamie at his, and Maureen, Ryan, and Bruno were at Bobby's. They moved the couch in from the break room for Bernie and Randall, along with a round table for the legal contingent, plus Amanda minus Carmen, who sat with Jet, and Kathleen, who stuck with Joe between her father's group and her older sister's. Fin stood on the other side, between the Benson-Stablers and Jamie, flanked by the twins.

They'd been scheduled to start ten minutes ago, but Jesse Rollins was refusing to join her grandmother, sister, and friends in the back room.

"I'm the same age as Noah."

"No—" Amanda started.

"Almost!"

"Almost is not the same." Amanda attempted to steer her wayward daughter toward the door, but Jesse had planted her feet and refused to budge. "And you are acting like a baby."

"Aunt Amanda, Jesse needs to stay," Noah said. "It's important."

Amanda narrowed her eyes at Noah. "Why?"

"It's important," Noah said stubbornly.

Amanda shot Olivia and Elliot a look that bordered on murderous and suggested she blamed them for whatever this rebellion was. Olivia swallowed a sigh. Elliot pursed his lips. "If Noah and Jesse say it's important," he said, "we should trust them."

Amanda squared her shoulders to argue, but Sonny clasped her arm. "It could be better to hear it than imagine it," he said softly, for her alone. Jesse was incredibly observant and imaginative, and Sonny suspected she knew more than they realized, and had the whole time. 

Amanda huffed. With a new baby, Billie's ongoing nightmares, Sonny's preoccupation with the trial, and her own heightened stress levels, Amanda was exhausted. Jesse's anxiety wasn't as obvious as her sister's, which made it harder for Amanda to understand, and that made her overprotective. She was already dreading whatever-the-hell they were going to learn at this meeting, and the thought of Jesse hearing it made her blood run cold. But maybe Sonny and Elliot had a point. If the press around the trial was the firestorm they were worried about, it could land on Noah and Jesse at school. At least this way, they got ahead of it. "Fine." The room breathed a sigh of relief.

"Jesse can sit with me," Noah said. He moved aside to make space on the chair.

"Thank you, Noah," Amanda said in a clipped voice as she ushered Jesse past him. "But we will sit together." She walked Jesse to the couch and sat her next to Bernie. Olivia brushed Noah's shoulder, and he quietly settled back in his seat.

Bernie smiled at Jesse. "You look very nice today, Elizabeth."

Jesse blinked. Amanda huffed again. Lizzie frowned. Elliot closed his eyes. 

"Thank you, Grandma Stabler," Jesse said politely.

"That's not Elizabeth, Ma," Randall said. "That's Jessica."

A choir of voices rang out to correct him as Jesse, Amanda, Lizzie, Noah, and Elliot all said, "It's Jesse."

Randall looked disgruntled. "Sorry."

"It's okay," said Jesse.

Randall took a breath and tried again. "This is Jesse, Ma. Elizabeth is over there." He pointed to his niece. She waved awkwardly.

"Of course, that's Elizabeth," Bernie said. "Who else would she be?"

Randall looked at Elliot. "Should I...?"

"No," said Elliot. "Maybe she won't get it all, but she should be here." There were too many variables to leave any of them out.

Scola waited until they'd settled again. Or at last. "Thank you all for making the time to be here on such short notice. It's good to see everyone doing well—"

"Pfft," Dickie said, but he quieted at a look from Elliot.

"I am sorry it's not under better circumstances."

"What do you mean?" said Lizzie. "Are we in danger?" A loud silence answered her. Maureen trembled. Noah's eyes found Jesse's across the room. Fin frowned. Lizzie swallowed. "I mean, more danger?" Scola took a breath.

"I thought we were here to discuss the court case," Fin said to get them back on track. Olivia shot him a grateful look.

"We are," said Scola. "Mr. Carisi?"

Sonny stood and joined the others in the front. "As you are all aware, the trial of the—" He paused with a look toward Amanda and Jesse. "—of the man who attacked Kathleen starts next week. We wanted to go over what to expect from the defense and how it could play out in the press."

The crowd nodded. They had all encountered at least some of it. 

"Based on what we've seen so far," Carisi continued, "Buchanan intends to argue that the defendant was set up by SVU, with an assist from Organized Crime."

"Why?" said Lizzie.

"They're the defense," Dickie said with disgust. "They're supposed to make shit up to win." He glanced toward the lawyers' table. "No offense." Though his attitude suggested he found it entirely offensive. Barba flattened his lips. Alex glanced at Elliot. Elliot glanced at Jet. Jet curled her hands into fists in her lap.

"None taken," Trevor said affably in an attempt to ease the tension. Dickie sat back and crossed his arms. 

Lizzie bit her lip. "I meant, why would SVU set up an assault?" Carisi glanced at Barba. He sat up and clasped his hands on the table.

"Publicity and pressure from above," Barba said. "The press around these attacks caused fear and a demand to do something. The defense claims that SVU didn't have any leads, so they manufactured one and used the undercover operation to plant evidence in order to close the case."

Joe glared. "It makes more sense that one rapist is lying than there's a vast conspiracy in the police." Kathleen was still and silent beside him.

Barba nodded. "I agree. That's why they hope to bring in your frame of mind and a pattern of corruption." He took a deep breath and stood. "Per the recording, everyone involved was under a great deal of stress." Jet lowered her eyes. "There are steps we can take to mitigate the effect of those statements." Elizabeth, Richard, Noah, Eli, and Maureen's moods were not directly important to the case, though they could be said to affect the stress levels of the officially active participants, particularly Jet, Elliot, and Olivia. Kathleen being described as meddlesome might actually work in their favor to explain why she chose to take over the undercover assignment when Jet was stood down. If OCCB wanted to take the fall for the operation, a case could be made that SVU succeeded in their objective despite the issues surrounding Jet and Elliot, and potentially Bell's leadership. However, Barba knew Elliot would fight anything that hurt Jet or Ayanna, and regardless, the defense would push their own agenda. "Most damning, Captain Benson is described as having a panic attack while planning the operation."

Eli frowned. "But that wasn't about any of this," he said. Olivia panicked because she found out he knew about William Lewis, and she thought that made her a bad parent and a bad cop. And probably she was embarrassed. And she was confronted with the memory of William Lewis in the middle of a serial rape case that had stalled without evidence, and not so long after Richard Wheatley tried to take her to do who knows what, and then he was shot while holding her. The whole reason Eli asked to go with her to the precinct to see her old files in the first place was because he wanted to bring up the symptoms of post-traumatic stress he had seen in her somewhere safe and away from Noah and Dad. Of course, he couldn't say any of that. For one, the family hadn't recovered from what happened the last time Lewis was brought up. For another, he didn't know who knew what, but probably Noah knew nothing. And she wouldn't want to talk about it. She could barely even say his name. And what he'd observed helped the other side way more than theirs. His thoughts spiraling, Eli looked at his father for guidance, but Elliot was focused on Olivia, and so was Barba. So was everybody.

Olivia sat with her hands clasped tightly on Elliot's desk to avoid shaking. Eli blamed himself, she heard it in his tone, and she knew she had to step up and take responsibility for the narrative. Rafa had prepared her for this, had suggested that broaching the subject with everyone all at once and for the purposes of fortifying them would be easier than a string of individual conversations. He told her to keep it simple, as if it could be. Slowly, she glanced around the room crowded with her family and friends, her staff and peers, and focused on her breathing. More than half of them knew some of it; none of them knew all of it. Her eyes landed on Jesse, tucked next to her mother. She was about the same age as Amelia Cole. Amanda wrapped her arm around her daughter and pressed a hand to her cheek. In for a penny, she thought, and nodded once. Olivia squared her shoulders, raised her chin, and told her story.

"Ten years ago, I was kidnapped by a suspect. William Lewis." Eli's eyes flashed in surprise, but not saying the name gave it power, gave him power. Olivia meant to take it back. "He held me for days. A lot of it is a blur." Fin's expression was stone, but his eyes were wet. "Lewis was injured during my escape, and he accused me of using excessive force. He argued that I went with him willingly and tried to kill him to save face." She spoke as clearly and succinctly as she could. Elliot's hand was firm against her back in support. "A few months after the trial, he escaped from prison and held a little girl hostage." Again, her gaze fell on Jesse, watching with wide and solemn eyes. "To procure her safety, I gave a press conference where I said I lied during the trial, that I didn't attack him in self-defense but with the intent to harm." The legal terms were easier to say, but they cut her just as quick. "I was upset the day before the operation because I found out that Eli had learned that story."

Noah gasped. "The file he stole was about you?"

Olivia blinked at tears and slowly turned to her son. "Yes." Noah was pale and scared, just as she had worried, but resolute, too. Like Jesse. Like Eli. "I didn't want him to know. I didn't want any of you to know." She glanced around the room again. Only Dickie looked away. "But they are going to use this at trial to suggest that I'm willing to lie to catch the people I perceive to be criminals."

"But you don't have to lie," Lizzie said. Her shoulders trembled with her will to stay calm. This wasn't about her, and she had to support Olivia. She didn't before; she had to now. "You've been doing this forever, and your record speaks for itself."

"That could work against us," Barba said softly. "They'll claim either she's willing to break the law to protect SVU or that her reputation is another lie. Or both."

"But there's no proof." Lizzie's voice shook with tears she refused to let loose. Jamie grabbed her hand and threaded their fingers together in support.

"No hard proof," Alex said. "But they don't need to prove anything; they only need to provide reasonable doubt. And that's what they're building."

"What do you mean?" Fin narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean exactly ?"

"The Lewis situation is the first step," Barba said. "She told two different versions of the same event, one at trial and one to the press." Olivia felt her skin turn to stone. "Only one can be true."

"The trial one," Noah said indignantly. "My mom doesn't hurt people on purpose!"

Olivia remained still and silent, but inside she was screaming. Elliot increased his pressure on her back. "That's right, Noah," he said in a clear and measured tone. "She doesn't."

"So that means she lied to help the little girl and stop the bad guy." Noah crossed his arms in a passable imitation of Elliot. "That's her job."

"Precisely," Barba said. "Olivia Benson will do whatever it takes to catch criminals and protect victims." He looked around. "All of you will." The quiet grew uncomfortable as everyone realized how that could be twisted.

"Okay," Amanda said in a strident voice. "But one white lie a decade ago isn't a pattern of corruption."

"They said I left Carl because Dad and Liv told me to." Maureen's chin trembled. "At my hearing. They said they made up the abuse, and they're using Terry to confuse and seduce me."

Dickie shook his head. "Who's Terry?"

Bruno raised his hand. "I'm Terry," he said.

Dickie leaned back in his chair to reach Jet. "Are they...?" he asked in a sotto voice.

"How should I know?" she hissed.

"No," said Bruno shortly.

"They said it's what they did with Joe and Kathleen," Maureen continued. "That the assault wasn't real either."

"But there's evidence," Joe argued. "Her rape kit is an exact match to his DNA." Kathleen flinched at the word 'rape'.

"They'll say it was planted," Carisi said.

"There's a recording!"

"We don't know how that will play to the jury."

Joe stood so they were level. "Have you heard it?"

Carisi raised a hand. "Please calm—"

Joe slapped the hand away with a growl. "Have you heard it?"

"Joe," Olivia said softly. He looked over, fury all over his face. "It's his job to think like that."

Joe shook his head and sat down. Beside him, Kathleen cried silent tears. 

"Are you going to make a deal?" Jet asked in a low and quiet voice.

"No," Barba said firmly. He moved his eyes from Jet to Kathleen. "No deals." Carisi pursed his lips, but let the statement stand. He didn't want to give an inch, either, and Barba had more experience. Alex, too. However, his superiors were weighing the odds. At the moment, they agreed with Carisi's assessment that standing behind SVU was in everyone's best interest, but there was a lot of politics in prosecution.

"Wait." Dickie's eyes narrowed as he turned his attention to Scola. "Why is the FBI involved in a New York court case?"

"Sometimes custody cases cross state lines," Jamie said.

"I was talking about the rape trial," Dickie said, still glaring at Scola.

"Maybe they crossed state lines, too," Lizzie said.

"Nobody crossed state lines," Elliot said testily. 

Scola rubbed his temples. "If everyone can—"

"It's not a rape trial," Kathleen said, loudly and unexpectedly, causing Jesse to jump.

Joe reached for her hand. "Kathleen—"

Dickie sat up suddenly. "I thought Maureen's hearing was about a restraining order."

"It is," Bruno said. 

"No, listen. It's important to be precise." Kathleen struggled to catch her breath. Joe tightened his grip.

Scola huffed. "If everyone can just—"

Kathleen looked at Joe with tear-filled eyes. "I mean, there are a lot of rumors and misinformation, and I want to be clear about what happened."

"I know," Joe said.

"Then why are we talking about custody?" Dickie demanded.

"It's complicated," Maureen said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dickie looked askance. "No, it isn't." Jet stood and moved toward him. 

Maureen felt lightheaded. "Carl wants—"

"Who the fuck cares what Carl wants?" Dickie's roar made Maureen shrink into Bruno's arms. 

"Dic—" Jet reached out, but he jerked away from her.

Nina's whistle cut through the room. Everyone fell quiet and turned to her. She motioned to Scola. 

He cleared his throat. "The FBI is not directly involved in either the custody hearing or the criminal assault trial."

A quiet beat went by as everyone settled back into their seats. 

"So it's something worse," Dickie said.

Lizzie, Eli, and Jet all urged him to shush.

Scola spread his hand. "There is evidence—"

Jesse stood up with a nervous chirp. "Someone's following us."

Amanda stared at her daughter. "What?"

Anxious, Jesse looked at Noah. He nodded encouragingly. She squared her shoulders. "I've seen him three times taking pictures."

"What?" Amanda said again, louder and more desperate.

Scola rubbed his temple. Nina leaned down toward Jesse. "Can you describe him?"

"We can do better than that," Noah said, jumping up. "Jet, can you put my phone on the screen?" Jet glanced at Elliot. He nodded, and she projected Noah's phone onto the whiteboard. It showed a photo of a middle-aged man wearing a baseball cap, binoculars around his neck, and a camera in his hands, pointed at something off to his left. As Noah scrolled through the pictures, they all watched the man raise his camera to snap a few photos of his own. He was in profile with his face obscured by the cap until the final photo, in which he was turned three-quarters toward wherever Jesse and Noah were hiding.

"Is that enough for facial rec?" Elliot asked.

"On it," Jet said. Elliot stood and moved to look over her shoulder.

"What is he taking pictures of?" Bell asked. 

Noah and Jesse shared a look. She nodded, and he swiped to the next image, a photo of Billie, Seamus, and Kieran sharing a tire swing pushed between Amanda and Maureen.

Maureen grabbed for Bruno's hand. Carisi said a quiet prayer. Amanda was momentarily speechless. 

Olivia straightened. "Noah, you know better than to keep this to yourself."

Noah met her eyes. He looked equal parts guilty and unapologetic. "We were gonna ask to talk to you today, but then you called this meeting." It seemed like the appropriate venue to him.

Olivia shook her head. "The photos were taken yesterday, you should have told us—"

"You should have told me at the park," Amanda said, suddenly, loudly, and stridently. "We should have left immediately!" She rounded on her daughter. "And that was the third time you saw him? The third time?"

"Damn," Jet said. The search had come up empty.

Elliot leaned in. "Can you use the rest of the photos to build a composite?"

"Maybe,"  Jet mused and started to try.

"Yesterday was the first time I saw him," Noah said.

"Noah—" Olivia reached for her son, but he moved away toward his friend with some vague intention to get between her and her mother.

Noah planted himself beside Jesse and put his arm around her shoulders. "Only Jesse noticed. And she had a plan."

"A plan?" Amanda said in disbelief. 

"I wanted evidence, Mom, or else you wouldn't believe me!"

"Don't you dare—" Amanda reached for Jesse's arm, but Noah yanked her away. 

"Amanda!" Sonny pulled her back. 

"Don't you dare, either!" She was close to hysterics. Jesse was as white as a ghost. 

Sonny tightened his grip. "Amanda, you gotta calm down. She wants to impress you."

"You're blaming me?!" The last word was a sob as he pulled her into a tight embrace.

An unnatural quiet fell as everyone caught their breath.

"That was very dramatic," Bernie said to Randall. He patted her hand.

"Noah," Olivia said quietly. She motioned for him to return to Elliot's desk. Noah took Jesse's hand and led her over. Olivia glanced toward Amanda, crying in her husband's arms, and nodded for Jesse to sit in the chair Elliot had abandoned. Both kids were still shaking.

Barba's nostrils flared. Emotional outbursts made him itch, but his discomfort was the least of their problems. He raised his hands as if in a call for peace. "Okay, look, this is a lesson for everyone. We have to be straight with each other. Is anyone else holding anything back?"

"Like what?" Kathleen said quietly. 

Barba waved at Jesse. "Sightings. Suspicious behavior. Anything out of the ordinary. Any changes to the norm."

"There's no norm anymore," Dickie said. "It's all change."

No one disagreed.

"A new doctor joined Jamie's medical team," Lizzie said.

Barba turned toward Jamie in query. He sighed. "She's a med student," Jamie said, "and I don't think she's suspicious."

"I didn't say she's suspicious." Lizzie sounded defensive, and Jamie sighed again. "I said she's new."

"What's her name?" Jet asked. 

"Trinity Santos."

Jet nodded. "I'll run a check."

"I have a new medical team, too," Maureen said quietly.

"I can vouch for Dr. Liu," Alex said. She pursed her lips. "But maybe not the whole office."

Scola nodded. "Anybody else?"

Carmen glanced at Barba and Kathleen. "I think Buchanan wanted to use our job opening to get someone on the inside."

"Maybe we should let him and feed them lies," Jet said.

Dickie scoffed. "What are we, double agents?"

Jet narrowed her eyes. "Double agents are playing both sides. I'm suggesting we be regular agents."

"We're not regular agents either," Jamie said. "We're the marks, but we know it, so we make up fake intel."

"We can't make up lies about a strategy we haven't figured out yet," Bell said.

Jet turned desperate eyes to Elliot. He took a breath. "We could lie about it being figured out."

"Enough," Barba said. "Carmen, put the search on hold for now." She nodded.

Lizzie sat up. "Maureen could do it."

"What?" said Barba.

"What?" said Maureen.

Lizzie raised her eyebrows. "You said in the group chat that you were looking for a job."

Maureen looked askance. "I don't know anything about a legal office."

"You could learn."

Barba huffed. "We can discuss this later."

Noah pitched his voice to fill the room. "Jesse, did you have something else to add?" Amanda and Sonny looked over. 

Jesse swallowed. "I saw a lady watching, too."

Olivia sat up straight, and Elliot turned his full attention to the kids. "Do you have a picture?"

Noah and Jesse shook their heads.

"I didn't see her," Noah said.

Olivia took a breath. "Jesse?"

Jesse's chin trembled. "I saw her when Eli took us to get ice cream a couple of days ago, and again yesterday, outside the dance studio." Elliot glanced at Eli, but he shook his head. He hadn't seen anyone.

"Well, we were expecting this," Nina said quietly.

Amanda sucked in a breath. "What—?"

Olivia leaned down to look Jesse in the eye. "Jesse, honey, what did the lady look like?"

"Mean and kinda crazy."

Olivia pursed her lips and turned back to Elliot. He nodded at Jet, and the whiteboard blinked. The photo gallery on Noah's phone was replaced with a picture of Dana Wheatley.

"That's her!" said Jesse.

"That's my sister," said Ryan.

Dickie shot out of his seat. "The one who framed Eli for murder?"

Kathleen stood and pushed Dickie's chest. "Back off, Ryan didn't do anything."

Lizzie pulled Dickie back beside her, and Kathleen returned to Joe. He put his arm around her.

"Are you okay?" Maureen asked Ryan in a low voice. He didn't answer.

Scola cleared his throat. "To answer the earlier question, the FBI is involved because we had reason to believe that Dana Wheatley had a hand in the plot against Captain Benson and SVU."

"And Jesse confirmed it," said Noah.

Amanda glared at the FBI agents. "Exactly how long have you suspected it?"

"Amanda—"

"You can't keep stuff like this to yourself, Liv!"

Olivia flinched. "Hey," said Elliot, crossing back to his wife.

"No, she's right," Dickie said. "You can't be mad at Jesse and Noah and Eli for keeping secrets when it's all you ever do."

"We realized yesterday," Barba said. "And immediately set up this meeting to discuss it."

Dickie shook his head like he didn't believe that. Amanda looked cross. In fairness, Sonny did tell her Elliot thought there was a connection to Wheatley last night. She thought it was paranoia.

"How—" Maureen blushed when the entire room turned their attention to her. She swallowed. "How involved is she?" Was a Wheatley responsible for Carl's heel turn?

Scola took a breath. "Potentially—" Elliot grunted. Scola pursed his lips. "It seems likely she is the mastermind," he said. 

Maureen closed her eyes. Bruno brushed his thumb across her hand.

Ryan felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "Because of me?"

"No." Elliot stood behind Olivia with his arms crossed and his eyes straight ahead, looking at something only he could see. "Because of me."

The proclamation hung over the crowd. Many of them wanted to argue the point, but none could find their voice. The history was too deep, the variables too many, the truth too complex, and an FBI briefing was not the place for nuance.

Scola turned to his partner. "Nina?"

She clicked a pointer, and the photo of Dana was replaced with a map. "We followed Dana's trail to New Jersey." She pointed to a red dot. "But it went cold when she went quiet. There were a few leads, flights abroad." Colorful dots popped up across the map. "But they all came back false." The dots turned gray. "Given that, the suspicions about the trial, and now Jesse's witness ID, she's probably close." A ripple of fear coursed through the crowded assembly. "We're watching known associates, but we think they cut loose when Richard died."

"So she doesn't have the resources to hit us head-on," Elliot said. 

"Right," Nina said. "Or to fabricate something on her own, the way she did before." She nodded toward Eli.

"Using Buchanan is smart," Alex said. "She can tap into his network, and it shows she has a plan."

"And in too many ways we're playing right into it," Barba said, not quite under his breath.

"You aren't moving us back into a safe house," Lizzie said. "Are you? "

Scola shook his head. "No. Not at this time."

"But we do need to discuss security measures," Nina said. "Dana has very little left to lose and a lot to prove. It makes her particularly dangerous."

It took less time to address the security questions than Scola or Nina expected. The first part of the briefing, as loud and messy and thorny as it was, had apparently distilled a sense of imminent threat in their audience. They would have to determine the logistics, but everyone was on board with whatever they deemed necessary and at least seemed to trust them to decide what that was.

Slowly but surely, everyone left in small groups.

"Are you sure about this?" Amanda said as she secured Nicky's car seat. Sonny needed to drive his mother home and decided to take Billie and the baby along, leaving Jesse with Amanda.

"You two need some alone time," Sonny said. He helped Billie buckle her seat belt and leaned up to kiss Amanda's cheek. "We'll be fine." She nodded and shut the doors. Serafina blew kisses from the front seat as they drove off.

"We'll see you real soon, Mama," Elliot said. If Randall had to take the twins, Bernie would be moving back in with them. But he'd wanted to fix up one of the rooms for her anyway. "Remember to tell Randall if you see anything strange." Bernie nodded.

"Thanks for that," Randall said. "She's going to be saying something about every damn thing that she sees now."

Elliot gave him a look. "Write it down when she does. Even if you think it's nonsense." Bernie got confused, and more often these days, but when she was sharp, she was razor sharp.

"Yeah, yeah."

Elliot shook his head. Randall shuffled his feet. Elliot raised an eyebrow. "Is there something else?"

With a loud harrumph, Randall dragged Elliot down into an awkward but affectionate hug. Startled, it took a moment for Elliot to react, but he finally reciprocated, and Randall stepped back. "Don't die." Elliot nodded. Randall moved off to get into the car.

"Elliot." Bernie crooked her finger for him to come close. He leaned down to the open window. "Tell Olivia she's brave."

Elliot smiled and kissed her hand in gratitude. "I will."

Dickie, Lizzie, Jamie, Jet, and Carmen decided to go out for drinks, and while most of Elliot thought that was a terrible idea, he shut up and kept it to himself. Kathleen and Joe were invited, too, but had the good sense, or the feeling of impending doom, or they were tired—or all of the above—to decline. Kathleen left tucked into Joe's arms, and it settled Elliot's stomach in a way he wouldn't have believed even a week before, but Joe proved himself.

He was most worried about Maureen. Four agents were assigned to follow her, the boys, Ryan, and Bruno back to Olivia's old apartment. But she was too quiet when she kissed him goodbye. Too calm. He worried she was shutting down. "We're working on a plan," he said, his hands tight on her shoulders. "I won't let Carl win. I promise."

"I know," she said softly, but her eyes were focused on somewhere far away.

"I love you, baby." His voice was barely above a whisper and tight with fear.

"I know." 

Elliot met Bruno's eyes behind her and allowed him to steer her into the car. Bruno's hold was gentle, but steady. "Keep her close. Please." Bruno nodded.

Maureen pulled a weary Kieran tight against her thigh. Seamus was on his other side, idly tracing circles on the window. Ryan sat quietly in the far back, lost in his own troubled thoughts. "I'm okay, Dad," Maureen said as he closed the door for them. "I love you, too." Bruno slipped into the passenger seat.

As Maureen and Bruno's FBI escort drove them away, Elliot leaned on his SUV to wait for Olivia and the boys. After a moment, Fin joined him. Elliot glanced over. Fin didn't say a word, but Elliot heard his promise to stay until everyone was safe loud and clear. Three minutes later, Alex took up the same stance and duty on Elliot's other side. He smiled. 

"Noah." He looked up to find Amanda. She glanced between Noah and Olivia behind him, watching the interaction with quiet tension. "Thank you for supporting and protecting Jesse."

"She's my friend," he said simply.

Amanda glanced at Olivia again. She knew she should apologize. It was why she came over here. But her heart still pounded in her chest, and the words stuck in her throat.

"Noah," Olivia said softly.

He took a breath. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you right away."

"I understand," Amanda said. Dickie was right. They all kept secrets. "But don't do it again." Noah nodded and walked off to say good night to Jesse.

Olivia reached out and squeezed Amanda's arm. "Is Jesse okay?"

"Well, we have a lot to talk about." Amanda wanted her to stay a little girl a little longer, while she was out here stalking criminals. And yet, still a little girl. God, they all needed so much therapy. She shook her head. "Are you okay?"

Olivia folded her lips. A psycho killer was stalking them all, again, the opposition had plans to ruin her and everyone she loved, and she might have to lie in court to prove she was not a liar.

"Yeah," said Amanda. "Me, too."

"Mr. Barba?"

He turned. "Eli." The kid was hunched over, as though he was ashamed of his height, or perhaps trying to take up less space. "What's up?"

Eli fiddled nervously with the sleeves of his shirt. "There's another pattern."

Barba's eyes narrowed. "What's that?"

"Olivia gave herself up to Lewis to save the girl, right?"

"Yes."

Eli sucked in a breath and swallowed. "And Lewis ended up dead."

"Yes," Barba said slowly. What was the kid getting at?

Eli glanced around and leaned in close. He lowered his voice and spoke rapidly. "She gave herself up to Wheatley to save Maureen and Seamus." Barba frowned. Eli chewed a lip. "And Wheatley ended up, dead, too." His dark hair fell forward to partially obscure his wide brown eyes that were strangely so much like Liv's. Barba raised his chin. Eli held his breath. 

Fuck, thought Barba. He's right.

Chapter Text

It had been a long day, and the coming week was guaranteed to be full of longer ones. Maureen wanted to crawl under the covers of her bed and not come out for at least three months. Unfortunately, quite a few people needed her to be present. Most importantly, her two children, who currently share her bedroom and usually her bed. Also, it wasn't even her bed, and while Olivia wasn't expected to need it soon, or in theory, in hope, ever again, still, it was Olivia's bed and Olivia's bedroom and Olivia's apartment, and Maureen felt like a child playing dress-up in someone else's life. And she hated every minute.

"I was thinking spaghetti."

Maureen looked over just as Bruno pulled a box of pasta from the kitchen cabinet. Olivia's pasta from Olivia's cabinet in Olivia's kitchen, held by Olivia's detective. Maureen wanted to scream, wanted to cry, and wanted to throw the pasta off the balcony in equal measure. Instead, she nodded. "Okay."

"It's easy, and filling, and a comfort food." He shrugged. "At least for me." He flashed her a small smile.

"I said okay!" Maureen's desire to scream, cry, and throw pasta to the wind was more evident in her tone and expression than she meant it to be. Bruno raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, I'm—" She shook her head. "I'm sorry."

He pressed her hand. "I get it."

Maureen took a breath. "I need to call my uncle. Alex—" She took another breath and looked up to meet his eyes. "Alex wants photos of him and the twins together."

"Okay." Bruno tapped her hand again. "You go figure that out, and I'll make dinner." She chewed her lip. Bruno leaned in. "It's going to be okay." Maureen looked away, unconvinced. Bruno moved his hand to her shoulder. "Go make your calls. I got this." She nodded and walked away from the man who was not her husband to close herself inside a bedroom that was not her own and make a plan to hand her sons to an uncle she barely knew and whom her father barely liked. None of this was okay.

Jet's eyes landed on Dickie. They were over an hour into whatever this was—too late for happy hour, too early for after hours, the place was full but not crowded—and he was at the bar waiting for a refill and watching his sister with big worried eyes that reminded her of Elliot. They'd pulled two round tables for two together to accommodate the five of them, and Dickie ended up in the middle like he always did. Jet sipped her beer and kept her voice low, for Carmen alone. "He keeps asking me what I want."

Carmen leaned over the table, her elbows sliding towards Jet and her chin propped in her hands. Curiosity lit up her eyes, along with a hint of mischief. "Yeah, so. What do you want?"

Jet slunk back in her chair with a petulant huff. "I want everyone to stop asking stupid questions."

Carmen laughed softly, and not unkindly. "I getcha girl, I do. But you and I both know that relationships—"

Jet slammed her bottle on the table with enough force that Carmen jumped. "It's not a relationship."

Carmen raised her chin and leaned up, but not away. "What is it?"

Jet's eyes narrowed. Her fingers tapped the table with a distinctive nervous energy. "A distraction."

Carmen's expression was poised between amusement and amazement. "Does he know that?"

"He should." Carmen's eyes were wide with discernment and a healthy side of disbelief. Jet sighed. She pressed her fingers into her temple, and her shoulders dropped as her eyes scrunched shut. "This whole thing is so fucked up."

Carmen was quiet for a moment. Jet could mean so many different things, and every one of them was fucked up beyond comprehension. "Aight, so." Carmen waited for Jet to meet her gaze. "What do you want tonight?"

Jet slowly drew her tongue across her top lip. "A better distraction." She lifted her eyes to peer up through her lashes. "Is that a problem?"

Carmen slowly shook her head. "Not for me." She stood and offered Jet a hand. Across the room at the bar, Dickie's expression turned sour as Carmen drew Jet into the crowd to lose herself in the music.

Maureen pulled the sheet up under the twins' chins and tucked it against their bodies. The boys were fed, and the plan was set. "Tomorrow we're going to spend some time with Uncle Randall and Grandma Bernie."

Seamus squirmed away from her gentle touch to glare up. "What about Dad? When are we gonna spend time with Dad?" Kieran was quiet and still, subdued and scared next to his brother, but he watched her with the same pleading eyes.

Maureen swallowed. "I'm going to see your father first thing Monday, and we will figure that out." She kept her voice calm despite the fear that ran through her veins. If the judge granted Carl custody, she might never see them again. If Maureen were awarded custody, they would be safe from Carl, but not from this. How would they recover from this?

Seamus narrowed his eyes and dropped back on the bed. "Whatever."

Maureen leaned down to kiss their foreheads. Kieran patted her cheek, but Seamus twisted the sheet up over his head with an angry yank. She stood slowly. "Good night, boys." Her voice shook. "I love you." Neither answered. Maureen ducked her head to hide her tears and sped out of the room. She closed the door behind her and dropped against it, clasping her hands over her head to hide her face and muffle her tears.

"Are you okay?"

Maureen glanced toward the inquiry. Ryan sat in the corner of the sofa, watching her with wide, worried eyes. "As I can be." She chose to be direct. It was a ridiculous question, and they both knew it. None of them was okay. Maureen took a few settling breaths and pushed away from the door to join Ryan on the sofa. "How about you?"

Ryan curled his fingers into his sleeve. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever be okay again. Sometimes he wondered if he ever was in the first place. Growing up, everything seemed perfect. His father was a giant, his family devoted, his future bright. But there were cracks he couldn't see, and they kept growing wider. His sister was the only family he had left, but she wanted to destroy the only people who gave a damn about what happened to him. He didn't have the words to explain how he felt about that.

Maureen took another breath. "You don't have to tell me anything, but if you want to talk, I'm here." She methodically smoothed a pillow in her lap as she spoke. "And if you want to talk to someone else, in the family or outside it, I can help make that happen."

Ryan glanced back the way she came. She was crying because she was worried about her sons. He had always wanted a little brother. He liked spending time with the twins, and with Noah and Eli, and Jesse and Billie, too. Kieran looked up to him, treated him like a cousin, like he belonged. His family had already cost them their grandmother, and now Dana was after the rest of them. Sick, Ryan turned back to meet Maureen's eyes. "Does me being here put your kids in danger?"

Yes, she thought, but she buried it down deep. "We have all this security." She kept her gaze steady and her voice light, or at least as light as she could make it while discussing FBI surveillance.

Ryan chewed his lip. "You trust them?"

No, she thought, but pivoted to a better truth. "I trust Detective Bruno. And I know he'll protect you, too."

Ryan liked Bruno and everything he'd seen said she was right. But it was hard to fight instinct. "My whole life, I was taught to only trust my family."

Maureen looked sympathetic. "My life feels upside down, too." She tilted her head and flashed a small smile. "At least we're in it together."

Ryan looked at her with consternation. "You should hate me. You have so many reasons to hate me." Maureen's smile fell. "Why don't you hate me?"

Maureen hugged the pillow to her chest. Honestly, her hate was all used up. "I don't have any reason to hate you."

"I don't—" Ryan’s chin trembled. "I don't know how to feel."

Maureen nodded. She understood. "I really think you should talk to someone. You don't have to deal with this alone." His fingers fluttered in his lap. Maureen placed the pillow down and stood. "I'm going to make us some hot chocolate." Something warm to help them relax. She paused to brush his shoulder on the way to the kitchen. "You're safe. I promise." Ryan thought that was almost as foolish a statement as could be made, but hid his scowl and followed her to the cabinet to help.

Kathleen jumped when Joe flicked on the kitchen light. She was quiet the whole way home, and remained quiet now. It was unlike her, and he was worried. But he didn't want to draw attention to it, didn't want her to feel judged, or to spook her, or to overstep. That Frida Kahlo quote, 'Not fragile like a flower—fragile like a bomb,' described Kathleen perfectly. And Joe loved it about her, but if he said so, well, she would explode. So he kept his observations and worries to himself for the time being. "Are you hungry?"

Kathleen shook her head. Joe worried about that too. She was not eating regularly or normally, and her sleep was disturbed more often than not. "I feel dirty," she said, still staring at the floor, still shying from the light. "I want a shower."

"Go ahead." Joe spoke softly and with as much ease as he could muster. Kathleen didn't move. Joe rocked slowly closer. "Do you want—" He paused. He couldn't say 'help'. She was neither a child nor an invalid, and she would take that poorly. Though maybe anger would snap her out of her current fugue.  "—company?" That was the better option, he thought. It sounded flirty. And she did smile, or almost, in response.

"No. I'm all right." Joe's eyes said he disagreed, which Kathleen would normally find annoying and endearing in equal measure. But at the moment, it made her feel safe and loved. He was the real thing. "I'll feel so much better if I can just wash off—" She shook her head at the size of her upset. "Well, as much of today as I can."

Joe nodded his understanding. "Okay." She brushed his arm and headed down the hall to the bathroom. Joe decided to make a pasta salad. It was something concrete to do while he waited, and if they didn't eat it right away, it would keep for later. He set the water to boil and pulled out celery, cucumbers, bell peppers, and onions. Twenty minutes later, the pasta was cooling, the vegetables were chopped, and Kathleen was still in the shower. That wasn't unheard of, but with everything going on, it made Joe antsy. Again, he didn't want to fuss or make her self-conscious, but he also didn't want to leave her alone if she was in distress. The sound of the water grew louder as he walked toward the bathroom, but he didn't hear any singing,  babbling, or splashing, all of which Kathleen tended to do. Joe placed his ear against the door and knocked softly. "Kathleen?" He waited a full minute, but there was no answer. Besides the noise of the water, there was no indication she was in there. Frowning, Joe knocked again. "Kath, are you okay? Can I come in?" Still nothing. He reached for the knob, and it turned, unlocked. He knocked one more time and raised his voice. "I'm coming in." He pushed open the door and stepped inside. The outline of Kathleen's body, seated on the ground, was visible through the semi-opaque shower door. Joe crouched down beside it and called her name a third time. "Kathleen."

"I'm cold." Her voice sounded strained and far away.

Joe stood slowly and carefully slid the door aside to reach the faucet and turn off the now lukewarm water. Kathleen sat on the floor with her knees pulled up to her chest, pale and shivering. He reached back to grab a towel, wrapped it around her shoulders, and pulled her up off the wet tile. He sat against the wall and held her tight in his lap, moving his arms up and down her body to warm her.

"I'm sorry." Kathleen curled her fingers into his shirt and leaned into the embrace. "I couldn't move."

Joe kissed the top of her head. "I should have stayed with you." His mind flashed to the carnival, and he pulled her shuddering body closer still. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She did not. She wanted to burrow into his chest. She wanted to move to New Zealand. She wanted to magically transform into a different, better person. But Joe wanted her to talk. Joe, who loved her despite the mess. Joe, who made space for her in his home and his life. Joe, who heard her calling for help even when she couldn't speak. Joe, who deserved the truth. 

"What happened at the carnival," she said in a small and flat voice. "It happened before." Joe's nose flared with a sudden, encompassing rage. But he clamped it down and didn't speak, didn't move. She needed him to listen, not fly off the handle with a desperate need to defend her. She needed him to be calm and wait for her to explain. "I let men—I invited them to do whatever they wanted with me." It wasn't the same. Back then, she was indiscriminate. At the carnival, she had a plan, a purpose, a mission. She feared it didn't matter. "I don't—" She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I don't remember most of it." She wished she remembered none of it. "But it happened enough times—" She looked up to meet Joe's eyes, her own full of tears. "Someone could say something. It could come up." She trembled in his arms. "I started to imagine it." The tears slipped down her cheeks. "The trial. Having to talk about this in front of my family, my father, you—" Her voice broke, and she crumbled. "And I just—I froze."

Joe moved his hand to hold her head close. "Barba won't let—"

She shook her head furiously, violently. "That's up to the judge, and you can't say it's not relevant." She'd lured the perp in and opened herself up to abuse and assault. It was not the same, but there was an argument for relevancy.

"Maybe." He'd been through it enough to understand her fear. "But whatever happened in the past, it doesn't matter—"

"That's not how this works." Her voice was deep and raw and ravaged. "You know that."

He did know that. He knew it, and he hated it. It made him sick. But this wasn't about that. This was about her. "It doesn't matter to me." Her breath hitched as she raised her eyes to his. "It doesn't matter to Barba or Carisi, and it definitely doesn't matter to your father or Olivia." She held her breath. He clutched her close. "Trust me."

She closed her eyes, fell against his chest, and sobbed. Joe pressed his lips to her head and held her as tightly as he could.

The knock startled Lizzie. They'd spent the whole day with the only people she and Jamie saw anymore, outside of the hospital at least. The visitor she spied through the peephole surprised her, too, though maybe it shouldn't have. "Dickie? What are you doing here?"

Her brother shuffled in place with nervous energy. He lifted a small duffel. "Can I crash with you tonight?"

"Why?"

Dickie flinched at the blunt question. He glanced between his sister and her boyfriend, watching them from the alcove. "Jet needs some space."

Lizzie balled her hands into fists to avoid closing the door in his face. She was a homebody and an introvert, and the crowded meeting followed by a couple of hours at the bar used up at least four days' worth of energy. She was weary and a little buzzed and looking forward to collapsing into bed with Jamie and not getting up until absolutely necessary. Dealing with Dickie's drama was not a part of the plan.

"Of course you can," Jamie said. He shot Lizzie a pointed look. "It's your father's apartment."

Lizzie remained bothered, but moved aside so Dickie could enter. She reset the locks on the door as he walked over to Jamie. "Thanks, man." Jamie nodded.

"I'll get you some sheets for the couch." Lizzie marched past the men with purpose.

"The couch?" Dickie followed her to the linen closet. "This place has three bedrooms."

She pulled two sheets and a light blanket out of the closet and started back toward the living room. "We turned Eli's into the art studio."

Dickie had forgotten. Ugh, he was a terrible twin brother these days. A terrible brother, son, uncle, friend, and whatever Jet saw him as. He hated feeling so disconnected from the entire family. "Right, okay, but why can't I have Dad's?"

Lizzie turned both pale and scarlet with embarrassment. It was honestly impressive. Jamie cleared his throat. "We're using it for physical therapy." It was Jamie's idea to separate the space for sexual exercises and exploration from the space for more casual intimacy and sleep. It meant they didn't have to move their paints and toys to turn their bed back into a cozy, safe nest. And it helped. Lizzie was bolder in their activities and slept better in the bedroom. But it meant the guest bedroom—Lizzie refused to think of it as her father's—was no longer suitable for guests and certainly not for guests from her family.

Dickie got the impression he didn't want to know any specifics about the repurposed room. Lizzie shoved the sheets into his arms and escaped to the bedroom to retrieve a pillow. Dickie dropped the sheets onto the couch and turned to Jamie. "Um. So, how's that going?"

Jamie's expression turned uncertain. He assumed, correctly, that Dickie didn't want to hear about anything physical he and Lizzie were doing at home, whether it was considered therapy or not. And he probably didn't mean to ask about their relationship in general because that wasn't something any of them ever talked about. This left physical therapy in general. And physical therapy in general was going well, but Jamie didn't want to discuss it with anyone outside of the group already involved. He didn't want to field questions when it later didn't go well or to get anyone's hopes up about his recovery. His and Lizzie's hopes were all he could handle. "It's going," he said finally and shortly.

"You got a new doctor?"

Jamie looked briefly confused before remembering it had come up at the meeting. "Oh, uh, yes. Trinity. She's cool."

"She's nosy," Lizzie said, returning from the bedroom. She handed her brother a pillow, which he placed down on the couch by the sheets.

Jamie shook his head. "She just wants to get to know you."

Dickie frowned as he straightened and turned back. "Wait, do you think she really could be working for the enemy?" That would explain an outsized interest in his sister.

"No," said Jamie definitively.

"The 'enemy'?" said Lizzie in disbelief.

Dickie waved his hands in the air. "The Wheatleys."

Jamie pursed his lips. "It's only one Wheatley, and there is a whole FBI task force after her."

"There are two Wheatleys, and one of them is living with the FBI." Dickie crossed his arms. "And our sister and her kids."

Lizzie pressed her lips into a flat line. Jamie touched her arm. "Ryan isn't a threat," he said softly but firmly.

Dickie shook his head. "Why does everyone think that?" It seemed incredibly naive to him. And sure, he expected that from Kathleen, but why did all the rest, most of them law enforcement, go along with her? "And even if it's true, why is it our job to watch out for him? We are drowning trying to take care of ourselves."

"Why do you always have to pick a fight?" Lizzie rubbed her temple. She didn't entirely disagree with him, but it didn't do any good to shout about it here. 

"I'm not, I'm—" He pushed a hand through his hair and dropped his shoulders. She was right. "I don't mean to."

Lizzie sighed. Jamie squeezed her arm, and she shot him a look that said This is why she didn't want to let Dickie in. Jamie's expression turned sympathetic, perhaps apologetic, and she clasped her hand over his to show she understood. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Santos isn't suspicious. She's just pushy."

Dickie looked pensive as he absorbed that. Jamie moved his hand from her arm to her waist. "She pushes your buttons because she finds you interesting." He winked. "I can relate."

"I'm not her patient."

Dickie narrowed his eyes. His sister sounded exasperated, but also a bit defensive. As if this Santos person's attention bothered her because she liked it. And that scared her. Lizzie always ran away from complicated feelings, and her relationship with Jamie was one complication after another. Dickie was worried.

"You are an important member of the team." Jamie lifted his other hand to circle her waist and turn her towards him. Lizzie rolled her eyes. "You are. Because you're important to me." Jamie pulled her closer, and Lizzie brushed her hand through his hair with a smile. Her anxiety fell away at the look of desire and affection in his eyes. She sucked her lip through her teeth as Jamie's fingers played at her waistband. Dickie started to feel like a voyeur. 

"Okay," he said loudly, to remind them they weren't alone. "Good night, then."

Lizzie's cheeks flushed again, but Jamie squeezed her waist, unabashed by his feelings. He nudged her back toward Dickie. "You two should talk."

Dickie raised a hand. "That's okay—"

Lizzie's nose crinkled. "But we—"

"Shh." Jamie gently brushed her cheek. "Talk to your brother. I'll be fine until you're done."

Barba glanced at the clock with a huff. He'd been at this for hours and was no closer to understanding it. The table was covered in papers from the three cases. The current one shouldn't have anything to do with the other two. They were over, closed, settled. Both Lewis and Wheatley were dead and buried. But both were wreaking havoc from the grave.

Wheatley's autopsy said Fin's and Elliot's bullets hit him simultaneously, and both were fatal shots. There were a dozen witnesses who all told the same story. Wheatley was fleeing the scene with Olivia as a hostage. He had a gun to her head when he was stopped by his son. They exchanged a few words, and Ryan hesitated. Wheatley moved the gun from Olivia to Ryan, and she immediately struggled against him. Elliot called her name, she dropped to the ground, and he and Fin shot Wheatley. It didn't matter which shot took him out; it was all justified. No excessive force. No blurred lines. No lingering questions.

In contrast, Lewis's story had all of the above. The only witnesses to his death were Olivia, who maintained he shot himself, and a traumatized child who didn't see it. The failed indictment meant Olivia avoided a trial for his murder, but the whispers remained. And if Buchanan brought in or made up new evidence, she could end up back in front of a grand jury. Barba could not let that happen.

He picked up the Lewis trial transcript. Olivia wasn't the only lynchpin. Wheatley went after Olivia to get to Elliot, and despite his absence, Elliot was wrapped up in the Lewis story, too. 

   LEWIS: You came into the bedroom, started talking to me about your romantic fantasies about your ex-partner.

   LEWIS: How he would have known what to do with me.

   BENSON: He would have.

He would have. At the time, Barba didn't give it too much thought. He knew the rumors, the operatic tale of Benson and Stabler, but mainly dismissed them as just that. Rumors and fairy tales. He knew the real Olivia. And he knew Lewis was a liar who used her words and emotions against her. Now, ten years later, he still was. His words and hers in black and white. He would have.

Because that was a rumor, too. One Barba had exploited in the trial for Kathy Stabler's murder. Elliot Stabler had a reputation for being unstable. For being angry and aggressive. For being violent. It was hard to imagine Olivia beating Lewis unconscious and bloody, within an inch of his life. It was not hard at all to imagine Elliot doing it for her.

An overwhelming sense of dread fell over Barba at the conclusion. If this was where the defense was going, and alleging Elliot killed his wife was a strong argument that it was, he would have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that there was no way Elliot Stabler beat or shot Lewis. That he was far, far away in another story, another life. That he left Olivia alone and unprotected, abandoned her to the wolves. That maybe he would have, but they would never know because he didn't. Barba would have to break Olivia's heart and use Elliot to do it. And still, it might not be enough to save her.

Lizzie stood by the window watching Dickie move the smaller cushions off the couch and spread the sheets over it. Jamie had retreated into the bedroom, and it was quiet enough  they could hear the faucet running, as well as the emotionally raw twang of Dean Lewis that Jamie put on to give them more privacy. She decided the best thing to do was jump into the deep end and get this over with. "What happened with Jet?"

Dickie looked up. "Nothing." Lizzie held his gaze. Dickie sighed. "She left with Carmen, and I didn't want to be there when she got back." Lizzie bit her lip. He could see in her eyes that she wanted to ask why, but wasn't sure she wanted to hear the answer. "I couldn't imagine a way it would go well." Again, Lizzie seemed poised to question it, but stopped on the precipice. Dickie barrelled on. "Jet and I don't work, not as anything real. She was looking for something, someone to use to get over you—" Lizzie winced. "And I wanted—" He took a breath. "I wanted to save her." Lizzie ran away from complex feelings, and Dickie ran into them. "And it did change into something else." There was a universe, a simpler, kinder universe, where he and Jet made sense. He was a caretaker at heart, and she yearned for support and validation. In a simpler, kinder universe, that might have been enough. "But not anything sustainable. Not anything that should be sustained. We were both trying to change each other into something we're not, something closer to what we really wanted."

Dickie sat on the couch and gestured for Lizzie to join him. She sat in the corner and pulled her knees up. Dickie settled back in the cushions. "I submitted an application to the police academy." Lizzie's eyes went wide with surprise. "Jet had this crazy idea that I should be a cop. And the craziest part is, I almost believed it. I almost wanted it." Lizzie had trouble imagining it. For all his anger and moralizing, she could picture Dickie as a baker, a priest, or a preschool teacher before a cop. "The job isn't what I want."

That made a lot more sense to Lizzie. Dickie would absolutely twist himself into a cop shape to prove his worth to Jet. And to Dad, for that matter. To all of them. But Jet's attraction to Lizzie showed that it wasn't necessary. Right? Maybe he didn't need to change. Maybe he just needed to be patient. "Maybe you both just need more time."

Dickie shook his head. "The rush is what I want."

"The rush?" Lizzie stared. "What do you mean? You want to be shot at?" It made her sick just thinking about it.

"No." Dickie reached over and pressed her hand to waylay her anxiety. "Jet had two whole squads of cops to protect her from being shot. Or assaulted. I was there to carry her secrets. To carry her hurt. And to carry her heart." It felt so good to do that and be that for her. It felt pure. Maybe even Godly. He was someone to rely on. "I didn't understand before, what Dad and Olivia had. I didn't understand what I kept from her, what I took from her."

Lizzie frowned. She was having trouble following his thought process. "If you think that you and Jet have something in common with Dad and Liv, why don't you want to fight to keep it?" I mean, they were the big love story for the ages, right? That's the whole reason why Dickie was so mad about it.

"That's not—" He stopped and closed his eyes, drew his hands across his pants to smooth them. Lizzie was right, he had to stop rushing to fight. She wasn't judging him; she was listening and trying to help, and twins or not, she couldn't read his mind. He took a breath and looked up. "I'm saying I understand them better now, and that's why I know not to." Compared to Elliot and Olivia's blinding inferno, what he had with Jet was the shade of a dying ember. And there was nothing wrong with that. They could build on it, but not by lying about who they were. "I can't be a replacement for you and Jamie. I don't measure up to either of you, so I definitely don't measure up to both." Lizzie sat up to argue, but fell quiet when he raised a hand to still her. "And I don't want to be either of you, anyway, or Dad or Liv. It's not who I am, and it's not what I want."

Lizzie swallowed. "What do you want?"

That was always the question. He'd tried to put it on everyone else, to be what Jet wanted, or Lizzie, or Mom. It wasn't fair to them, or him. He wished he had a better answer than he wanted to know what he wanted. Lizzie waited, silently watching. He suspected that was her answer, too. He gave her a small, sad smile. "Maybe something like this." He waved to encompass the home she'd made her own, the man who loved her waiting patiently in the other room.

Lizzie glanced toward the bedroom, Jamie's music still a low murmur beneath their conversation. "I don't know what this is." She sounded shy.

"Well, from the outside, it looks like something worth having."

"So." 

Elliot stilled. He knew that tone. Beneath Olivia's calm demeanor, she was seething. The Benson-Stablers were quiet and fidgety on the drive home, and dinner was spent discussing the importance of open communication, especially now. He'd thought it went well. He and Olivia were clear, the boys understood, and they'd even come up with code words to use if they were ever unable to speak freely. Then they'd walked to get ice cream together, and admittedly, they were on high alert the whole time looking for tails. But home felt safe, and the tension melted. Or so he thought. He turned slowly, anticipating a dressing down. One he probably deserved but had hoped to avoid. Olivia stood in front of the bed, which raised his hackles even more. A standing discussion was serious. A standing discussion was a fight. Elliot swallowed a sigh, set his feet, and clasped his hands in front of his groin. He gave Olivia his full attention and braced for impact.

"When did Noah tell you what he and Jesse were up to?"

"He asked about the meeting while we were getting breakfast. Wanted to know if there would be an opportunity to speak." Elliot spoke slowly and clearly, as if he were presenting the facts of a case to a jury. "I asked about what. He clued me in. And I told him I would make sure they had a chance to present their findings." Olivia watched him, her lips pursed, her manner calm, like a mountain. Only he knew it was more like a dormant volcano. "Don't be angry with Noah, it was my—"

Olivia raised her hand with fingers splayed to stop him from finishing the thought. Choice, decision, responsibility, whatever he meant to say, it didn't matter. The result was the same. "Oh, believe me, I have enough anger for everyone." She was drowning in anger at the entire situation. It weighed down her whole body. She was wound tight and ready to explode, and it was exhausting. She was exhausted. "Don't conspire with my kid, Elliot."

One syllable, two letters, the smallest and simplest possessive determiner, but it was like a shot to his heart. Elliot tensed, and his blood went hot with anger, sorrow, and fear all fighting for dominance. Olivia pressed the space between her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I didn't—" She was angry, and she spoke without thinking. "I'm sorry."

"I get it." He did. It had been her and Noah for years. Alone most of his life, alone most of her life. And Elliot was a lot of the reason for the walls she erected around them both to keep Noah's heart safe. It hurt. He hated it. But he couldn't argue it.

She sighed. "Elliot."

"I understand." Olivia stepped closer, and her eyes washed over his face. It was clear that he did understand and even took responsibility for her misstep, but she felt awful, and it wasn't fair because he was the one who went out of bounds. He must have seen her turmoil, too, because his own anger softened and he reached for her. "We weren't conspiring. I don't know why he came to me instead of you—"

Olivia rolled her eyes and pulled away. "He knew you'd let him do it. That you'd be proud of him." Elliot bit back a retort. Olivia sighed. "And I'd've pushed to bring in Amanda." She would have marched Noah over to confess, and Amanda would have reacted just like she had at the meeting, and while Amanda would probably have preferred to fall apart in the privacy of her house, Olivia understood the ripple effects. The meeting would have been even messier. It would have been derailed before it began. It might have ended up postponed, which would cause confusion with everyone else, and experience showed that in this family, confusion led directly to chaos. She shook her head. "And that would have been the wrong call."

Elliot folded his lips. He reached for her again, and this time she let him pull her in. "I should have told you."

Olivia huffed. "I know why you didn't." She was twitchy the whole morning, knowing she'd be talking about Lewis and all the rest. Elliot gave her support and gave her space, and it was what she needed. He gave Noah what he needed, too. He gave him an opening and backed him up. And Noah took care of Jesse in turn. She couldn't be too mad at the results. "But yeah. You should have told me." 

He reached his arms around her like a living shield. "I'm sorry. I wanted to protec—"

"I know." He always did, always would. Knowing that allowed her to be who she was and do what she did. She pressed her hands into his chest and raised her chin to meet his eyes. "I don't need a protector. I need my partner."

A quarter century of devotion filled the space between them and seeped into their bones. Elliot nodded once, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I hear you."

Chapter Text

The family court judge considered the tableau of tension before her. Maureen stared straight ahead, her posture rigid and her hands tightly clasping the fabric of her dress. As the judge watched, Alex brushed a soothing hand down her client's arm, and her fingers uncurled. A new lawyer had joined Cabot's table, and there were two new faces beside Bruno in the front row of the galley as well. The respondent's team was dwarfed across the way, but Buchanan's ego and Carl's resentment were big enough to fill the room. "Please be seated."

Seven bodies lowered into their seats, but Alex remained standing. "Your honor, we have new information to share."

The judge waved a hand. "Who's your co-counsel?"

He stood. "Trevor Langan, ma'am." The judge knew the name, though not well. Trevor was tall and broad-shouldered, and he spoke with easy confidence. "I've been retained as an attorney for the children."

"I see."

Alex raised her chin. "Given the complexities of this case, we consider it prudent, and Mr. Langan is familiar with—"

Buchanan huffed. "Your honor, there's no way he's impartial."

Alex glared at her adversary. "Mr. Langan's sworn duty is to protect the best interests of the children. Not the Stablers."

"All right." Once again, the judge already had a headache. "Mr. Buchanan, your concerns are noted, but Mr. Langan's purview is clear and accepted. Continue, Ms. Cabot."

"First, Ms. Stabler has procured employment." Alex handed the clerk a copy of the contract from Barba, indicating Maureen's salary, benefits, and hours.

"She hasn't worked a day in her life," Carl said with a snide look of disbelief.

Alex pursed her lips. "Ms. Stabler was working in a children's library when she met the respondent."

"That wasn't a real job," Carl scoffed. Maureen's nostrils flared, but she kept her eyes trained on the judge. Carl continued to mutter derogatory remarks under his breath, but Alex ignored him and slightly raised her voice to counteract them.

"Maureen has a BA from Hudson University, where she also worked in the library as a student. Since her marriage, she's run the household and acted as the main caretaker for her sons. She is also a published author." Alex handed the clerk a second stack of papers with Maureen's resume and a letter from her publisher. "Maureen is more than qualified for this position." Alex pitched her last comment to Maureen as much as the judge and Carl; she needed to hear it.

Carl huffed. "If she's working, who is taking care of the kids?"

Maureen flinched. Alex placed a calming hand on her shoulder. "School resumes shortly, and in the meantime, there are many options within the family. Or we can temporarily hire a nanny."

"A nanny?" Carl glared. Of course, Benson and Cabot and the rest of them would want to farm off raising his kids to some paid third party. That's not how he or Maureen were raised, and it's not how his kids would be. "I'm not paying for that." 

Alex bit back an angry retort. "Again, Ms. Stabler has a large family with the means to help for the short time before the twins return to school, as well as before and after school, as needed." The judge nodded to the clerk to make a note. Alex took a breath. "Now, as regards living arrangements, we maintain that the current situation is best. However, given the respondent's objections to the twins sharing an apartment with Mr. Wheatley and Detective Bruno, we offer an alternative." She gestured toward Randall, and he stood. Carl peered at him with distrust. "Ms. Stabler's paternal uncle, Randall Stabler, has agreed to take temporary custody while the matter is adjudicated. Mr. Stabler is retired and recently returned to the city to help care for the family. While living with Mr. Stabler, the twins will have their own bedroom and can attend their current school to avoid further disruption in their routine."

Carl grew increasingly agitated as Alex detailed the plan and pestered Buchanan to intervene. The lawyer stood. "Your honor, my client barely knows this person. The children's grandparents can provide a stable and comfortable home away from the stresses of the Stabler family."

Alex squared her shoulders. "Your honor, the children's paternal grandparents live out of state, and they are significantly older than their maternal relatives, including Maureen's three adult siblings, her father and stepmother, and her uncle, Mr. Stabler here, all of whom live in New York, most of them in Queens. Any of the Stablers is a better choice for a guardian."

"Your honor, Ms. Cabot's biases—"

The judge held up a hand, and Buchanan fell silent. "All right, I'll consider it." Randall and Buchanan sat down. "Is there anything else, Ms. Cabot?"

Alex swallowed and nodded to Scola. He stood. "This is Special Agent Stuart Scola of the FBI. He's here to answer any questions you may have about their ongoing operation and how it affects Ms. Stabler and her children." Alex sat as the judge turned her attention to the agent.

"Agent Scola."

"Your honor."

"What is the FBI's interest in these proceedings?"

The room went silent, waiting for the response.

Scola took a breath. "Last May, death threats were leveled against three members of the Stabler family alongside the Bensons and Amanda Rollins. In response, the entire Stabler, Benson, and Rollins families were moved to an FBI safe house along with two additional NYPD detectives." Maureen was stiff in her seat. So much had happened since then. Her life before the safe house was unrecognizable. "While that initial threat has been neutralized, one person of interest remains at large."

The judge pursed her lips. "What are the current security conditions?"

"We have a dedicated security feed and a team of agents assigned to monitor the minor children."

"Kieran and Seamus?" the judge said for the record.

Scola nodded. "Yes, along with Ryan Wheatley."

Buchanan jumped up. "Your honor, we object strongly to Carl's children remaining under government surveillance alongside a known criminal."

"Objection." Alex rose, too. "Ryan is included because he is a minor, not a criminal."

The judge raised her hand with a pointed look. Alex and Buchanan sat. "Agent Scola, what happens if the twins are separated from Mr. Wheatley?"

"Agents are already in place to watch the Benson-Stabler and Carisi children at their home."

Carl shot out of his seat. "No! No, I will not allow my children to live with any of them! They're criminals, too!"

Alex stood once more. "Captain Benson and Detective Stabler are long-standing, decorated members of the NYPD."

"Because they know how to work the system!" Carl waved his hands furiously. "They're doing it right now!"

"Your honor, these conspiracy theories and unfounded accusations—"

"Unfounded?" Carl turned toward Alex with a snarl. "Everyone on their side of the room is owned by that bitch Benson."

Maureen gasped. Carl's angry eyes turned to her.

"Mr. Buchanan, get your client under control, or I will have him removed."

Standing, Buchanan placed a hand on Carl's arm. "Your honor, we consider the Benson-Stabler et al home an unsafe environment for the children. As we explained last week, Elliot junior has a violent temper." Alex swallowed an angry laugh, and Maureen bit her tongue to keep from shouting him down. "Inherited from his father, no doubt." He passed a paper to the clerk. "Both Detectives Benson and Stabler have been accused of excessive force and investigated by IAB on multiple occasions."

"And cleared every time." Alex spat the words.

"Mm." Buchanan smiled at her. "Conveniently."

Alex narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"Just like their marriage," Buchanan said softly, meaning to needle Alex and the other side, not present to the judge. 

The judge knocked twice on the bar for attention. "Sit down," she said for what felt like the hundredth time. Alex, Buchanan, and finally Carl took their seats. The judge sat back in her chair. "Agent Scola."

"Yes, your honor."

"Would the children retain FBI protection if they were separated from their mother?" Maureen started to tremble. Alex pressed her hand in support.

"Yes," Scola said. "Bernadette Stabler is currently living with her elder son—" He nodded toward Randall. "—so his apartment is already set up."

The judge pursed her lips. "And if they moved to Albany with their father?"

Maureen let out a small squeak of distress, and Bruno reached out to touch her shoulder. Alex increased her pressure on Maureen's hand. "Your honor—"

"I want a full picture, Ms. Cabot." Alex nodded in acknowledgement. The judge waved for Scola to respond.

"My team can cover all of New York, your honor."

"What if they moved out of state with their grandparents?"

Scola cleared his throat. "That would be more difficult to arrange, but we are dedicated to protecting them." Maureen's eyes filled with tears.

Carl stood and leaned in toward the agent. "We don't want your protection."

Scola glanced over. "You don't want your children and parents protected from suspected murderers?"

"Not by you." Carl's eyes swung madly from Scola to Bruno and back.

Maureen pulled away from Alex and Bruno to rise on shaking legs. "Carl, please. Please!" Carl's eyes were wild, barely human, and she felt her heart start to race when he turned his gaze to her. "It's not safe." Carl shook his head. Maureen pressed her hands together as in prayer. "Carl, please, listen to me—"

Alex stood. "Your honor, Seamus and Kieran's safety depends on cooperation with Agent Scola and the bureau. If their father cannot agree to that, then the only acceptable decision is to grant sole custody to their mother."

Carl pointed at Scola's chest. "My children were never in danger until these people showed up."

Scola stepped out of reach of Carl's increasing agitation. "Again, credible death threats were—"

"Elliot probably arranged them himself!"

Alex stared. Tears streamed down Maureen's cheeks. "They held a gun on us! Seamus still has nightmares!"

"All evidence points to the Wheatley family," Scola said.

Carl leaned in. "How do you know they weren't working together?"

Maureen physically recoiled. Bruno stood and placed himself in front of her and her lawyers. Carl looked like he wanted to throw a punch, but Buchanan pulled him out of reach. 

Alex raised her chin. "Richard Wheatley was responsible for Kathy Stabler's murder." She caught Buchanan's eyes as he steered his client back into his seat. He didn't speak aloud, but she heard another smug 'conveniently' in her mind.

The judge raised her hand. "Enough." The group quietly settled and waited for her to continue. The judge swallowed a sigh. Some of her decisions were clear, but there was way too much going on in this case. "I need to consider the new information. Court is in recess for one hour." She banged the gavel and made her escape.

Elliot and Olivia arrived at the law office midmorning. Barba called them in for prep while Alex and Trevor were in family court with Maureen, and Carisi and Carmen were at the courthouse preparing for voir dire. They were expecting him, and maybe Kathleen, but entered the conference room to find Barba speaking in low tones with their long-ago boss. The two men looked up as the couple joined them.

Elliot slowed to a stop at the table. "Cap?"

"Don, what are you doing here?" Olivia said, uneasy eyes flickering between the three men before her. Cragen glanced at Barba. Elliot's shoulders tensed as he dropped a hand to press Olivia's back in preemptive support.

Barba squared his shoulders. "Captain Cragen has been added to the defense's witness list."

"What?" Elliot frowned. He could feel tension pulsing through Olivia's body. "Why?" An awkward quiet met his ire. 

"We can't say for sure," Barba said finally.

Olivia peered at him intently. "You have a guess."

Barba met her eyes. "I have a theory." The heavy silence grew again as they waited for him to continue. Barba sighed. "Let's sit down."

Elliot, Olivia, and Cragen sat at the table as Barba opened a file folder, pulled out a handful of photographs, and placed them in a line on the table. The first image showed the defendant, Dennis Wright. He was in his late twenties, blonde and freckled, mostly nondescript with a vacant expression in the mug shot. Besides Wright, Barba laid out four more photos: Dana Wheatley, Richard Wheatley, Kathy Stabler, and William Lewis. Elliot and Olivia grew more tense with each one, and Cragen, too. After placing the final image, Barba sat down and took a breath. "The more I thought through this, the more things stood out." He tapped the defendant's photo. "This guy can't afford Buchanan."

"Dana's paying," Elliot said. It was a fair assumption.

Barba nodded. "And her sole purpose is to destroy you. She's targeting Liv, Kathleen, Maureen, Eli, Jet, SVU—everyone and everything you love." Elliot was stone-faced as he listed the names. He kept his eyes up, but Kathy's photo was a painful reminder of the stakes. However, Barba believed death was too easy. Like her parents, Dana wanted Elliot to suffer. She wanted to ruin them. Barba sat back in his chair and widened his focus to include Olivia. "They'll want to paint a picture of patterns, years of corruption. Lewis is a flashpoint, but there's more to the story." He glanced to the retired officer at his side and pitched his voice to a prosecutorial level. "Captain Cragen, did you ever have reason to believe Detectives Benson and Stabler were dirty?"

"Never." The answer was quick and certain.

"They were committed to justice?"

"Yes." Cragen again spoke with confidence. He was proud of them.

"And to each other?"

Olivia pressed her lips flat. Elliot moved his hand to her thigh under the table.

"They were partners," Cragen said.

Barba frowned at the non-answer, which was also given with less assurance. "How would you describe their partnership?"

Cragen set his jaw. "Impressive. They closed more cases than any other couple."

Barba looked up from his notes. "Couple?"

Cragen huffed. "Duo."

"Better." Olivia flinched. Elliot brushed his thumb across her leg, his hard eyes focused on the lawyer. Barba swallowed a response. "So, they were effective?"

"Yes. Their record speaks for itself." Cragen's nostrils flared, but he kept his posture relaxed and his voice calm. He was well-versed in providing testimony. And in keeping his subordinates' emotions in check, too. 

Barba nodded. "And that's not suspicious?"

"No." Cragen's expression said the question was offensive.

"You never suspected they were too good?"

"No," Cragen said shortly, his composure starting to slip. 

"Too driven?"

"No."

"Too close?"

Cragen hesitated. Barba narrowed his eyes. "Answer the question, please."

Cragen glanced at the couple across the table. Olivia sat completely still, her eyes focused on something past them all, something only she could see. At her side, Elliot practically vibrated in place, all his attention on Olivia, prepared to shield her from any harm with his body, heart, and soul. Cragen's heart ached for them both, for them all. "I once ordered a psychological evaluation. The report described them as too close."

Elliot briefly peered at his old boss. He remembered the eval but not the results. Cragen's expression told him that it was purposeful. 

Barba made a note to find out if the report or the evaluation was filed anywhere. Hopefully, it was too far in the past. "Did you agree?"

Cragen absently tapped a finger on the table. Both Elliot and Olivia watched him now, and the tension was palpable. "At the time, I chose to see it as a strength."

"Was there any time you changed your mind?" Cragen hesitated again. Barba pursed his lips. "Captain."

Cragen lowered his eyes. His tapping finger curled inward to form a fist. "When Elliot retired, I wished I'd split them up sooner."

Barba leaned in. "Why?"

"Olivia—Detective Benson was—" Cragen's voice cut off. He took a breath and raised his eyes. Olivia's stiff expression could not mask her storm of emotions, too many to parse, reminiscent of that day, and the weeks, months, of pain that followed. "Hurt," he finished in a low croak.

Barba sat back. His eyes found Elliot's, narrowed and quick. It was a testament to how far they'd come that he was working to understand the purpose of this rather than launching himself across the table to stop it, as he clearly wanted to. Barba turned his attention back to Cragen, whose confidence had faded with his grief. "Hurt?" This question was quieter. Like Elliot, like Cragen, Barba knew the cost of this probe. He was pushing them past a line they'd spent years tiptoing around.

"Heartbroken," Cragen said, both anger and apology evident in his tone.

Barba nodded. "Good. That's good."

Olivia's head whipped around, her eyes like daggers ready to draw blood. "That's good?" Cragen flinched at her bark of disbelief. 

Barba turned to her with sorrowful eyes. "Why would Elliot conspire to kill his wife?" He pointed to Kathy's photo, fighting to keep his voice steady.

"He wouldn't," Olivia said, her voice a low, menacing rumble.

Barba pursed his lips. "Yes. We know that." His eyes flicked between Olivia's strident defensiveness and Elliot's dawning awareness. "But if he had, to what end?"

Olivia shook her head. She couldn't imagine a reason.

Elliot closed his eyes and silently prayed for fortitude. He took a breath, grasped Olivia's hand, and brushed his thumb across her knuckles. He raised his chin and opened his eyes. "So I could be with Olivia."

Barba nodded. "Exactly."

"But the timing doesn't make sense." Kathy died hours after they were reunited— Unless. Elliot tightened his grip on Olivia's hand. Unless.

Barba nodded again, as if he'd spoken aloud. Elliot frowned. Had he spoken aloud? He felt lightheaded and shook his head to clear it. Barba squared his shoulders. "If the estrangement was for show—"

Olivia sucked in a breath. "What?"

"Hypothetically." Barba raised his hand. "Imagine it for a moment."

"No." Barba reached over the table to press her hand, but she recoiled, pulled away from Barba and Elliot both, and clutched her arms around her chest. "I don't want to."

"I know. I'm sorry." His tone was anguished and haunted. "But if I'm right, we need to figure out a way to dispute it."

Cragen crossed his arms. "Right about what?"

Barba looked pained. He reached over the table again and placed his hand in front of Olivia as a steadying presence. "Liv." She met his eyes, her anger emanating off her in waves. Barba took a breath and spoke softly. "Lewis implied you wanted him to enact fantasies about your ex-partner." Barba felt ill bringing this up—Lewis had used the words 'romantic' and 'rape' when discussing her alleged fantasies—but better him than Buchanan.

"He what?" Elliot snarled.

Olivia glared, whole body sharp and shivering with barely contained rage. "That was a lie."

"Of course it was," Barba said swiftly and loudly. Olivia's eyes narrowed. He lowered his voice again. "But you said something. Somehow Lewis knew Elliot was a pressure point." The words hit Olivia like tiny grenades, exploding through her nervous system and throwing her into panic. Her expression was frozen, stricken, her eyes clouded over, and her shoulders tight with tension. "Liv—" There was no indication she heard him. "Liv, I only want to protect you." Barba looked close to tears. "There's no judgment here."

"All right, that's enough." Elliot half stood and leaned in to place himself between Olivia and Barba's attempts at comfort. To protect her.

Olivia laughed, loud and harsh with no mirth. It cut through the room like a bark, and the three men fell quiet with worry and concern. Someone said her name. One or all of them. She neither knew nor cared, her mind too full with zombie emotions. Her anger lost its bite and became something inevitable, something heavy that sat on her chest, constraining her heart. "I told Lewis he would know what to do." The memory flooded her senses, and she swayed in place. Elliot stepped closer and raised his arms, prepared to catch her should she fall. He wanted to scoop her into his arms. It went against every instinct to hold back—but intuition told him to wait for her to come to him. "And then I detailed it." Cragen closed his eyes. "All the things Elliot would do. To him. For me."

Elliot forced his feelings into the pit of his stomach. He tasted bile, but he refused to pull attention from Olivia. "Liv." His hands hovered over her body. She swayed again, but this time hesitant rather than alarmed. Instead of leaning into him, she dropped forward over the table and pressed her fingers to the photo of Richard Wheatley. It was a flat representation of the magnetic, if malignant, man he was. The monster. Elliot frowned. "Liv?"

"Lewis had me where he wanted the whole time. From the instant I didn't pull my gun to the final trigger." Her voice was low and full of malice. But beneath her bitterness was something else, something old and primal, something righteous. "He wanted to ruin me. Everything I am and everything I love." Lewis taunted her. Exposed her isolation. Fed on her fears of abandonment and rejection. He pulled every thread, preyed on every insecurity, laid bare every piece of herself she wanted to excise since she was a small girl. He pounced on her unyielding faith in Elliot despite the details, despite the distance, and tried to twist it into something obscene. But inviting Elliot into the room with them made her stronger. In the beachhouse, on the stand, at the granary, she felt his presence. As nonsensical as it seemed, his memory was a reminder of her power and her worth. Elliot lingered under her skin, pulsing through her blood, a shot of adrenaline in the dark. Her eyes fell on her wedding band. Elliot was no longer a ghostly presence or a phantom limb. He stood beside her, a bundle of nervous energy and steadfast devotion.

Olivia pushed away the picture of Wheatley's smug face and stood to her full height. "I will not let them win."

Trinity took a long sip of her coffee and placed it down on the table between her and Lizzie. Jamie was getting his weekly stress test and encouraged them to go to the cafe rather than watch and wait. Lizzie thought she'd prefer to eat glass, but Jamie's soft eyes entreated her to go. The team wanted them to spend more time together, and this was a low-stakes environment. It's for his recovery, Lizzie reminded herself, but it didn't make her—or the situation—any less awkward. 

"So, how long have you two been together?"

Lizzie glanced up. Trinity's eager, bordering on aggressive, attention made her cheeks flush. "It's complicated."

The student doctor grinned. "I love complicated."

Lizzie shook her head. She hated it. "We met in May."

"Love at first sight?" Lizzie made a face. Trinity chuckled. "You're a prickly little princess."

"I like my privacy." Why was that so hard to understand or accept?

Trinity nodded. "I get it." She took another sip of her coffee and leaned in. "But we're here to talk about sex." Lizzie's cheeks burned red, and her mind searched for an escape, but nothing appeared. She felt trapped. "And I think that would go better if we got to know each other a little better first." Lizzie remained silent. Trinity licked her lips. "Julie says you clam up with her, too." Lizzie huffed. "And Jamie refuses to push you." Lizzie frowned; was that wrong? "He loves you." Lizzie's frown deepened. Was that wrong? "But if we don't know what you're doing, we can't help."

Lizzie chewed her lip. Her eyes washed over Trinity's face, trying to find a way to respond, to push past the fear and embarrassment. But she felt paralyzed, scared to ask any question in case the answer was worse than not knowing.

"I know you want what's best for Jamie and his recovery." Lizzie nodded. Trinity flashed a smile that was probably meant to put her at ease, but Lizzie found it off-putting. "Talk to me. You can trust me." Lizzie looked away. She couldn't trust anyone.

Frustrated, Trinity sat back in the chair. To be fair, the hospital was an awful place for this conversation. She needed to get Lizzie away from the reminders of trauma. She considered her options. "Do you use toys?"

Lizzie peered in confusion. "What?"

"Toys." Trinity winked. "With Jamie." Lizzie blushed a deep red for the third time in as many minutes. Trinity smiled; it was pretty on her. "Let's go to a sex shop."

Lizzie stared. "What?"

"C'mon, it'll be fun! Do you know a good one?" Lizzie shook her head, though more in response to the ask than the question. She knew of a few. "No problem, I'll figure it out." Trinity pulled out her phone and started typing.

Lizzie shook her head. "I'm not going to a sex shop with you."

"Why not?"

She shrugged, embarrassed. Truthfully, it was a good idea, but she didn't want to be so naked, metaphorically, in front of Trinity. "It's weird."

"No, it's medically advisable," Trinity chirped. "And totally normal to go with friends."

"We're not friends."

Trinity lifted a hand to her heart dramatically. "You wound me."

"I barely know you." Lizzie hated how often she felt entirely crazy these days.

"I'm trying to change that." Trinity tilted her head. "If it makes you nervous to be alone with me—"

Inexplicably, Lizzie blushed yet again. "That's not—"

"Invite your sisters."

Lizzie's response dropped off into confusion underlaid with anxiety. "What?"

"You have two, right?" That's what Jamie had said. "The three blonde mice."

"No. I mean, yes." Lizzie was flustered. "Two sisters and two—three brothers. But. . ." Her voice trailed off again. 

"But what?"

Lizzie worried her lip as a bubble of panic filled her chest. Trinity was overly interested in Jamie, in Lizzie, now in her sisters, her family— What if she was one of them? She felt stupid and paranoid to think it, but if she was trying to get information, if she was working with the enemy—

Jet said to use it, she remembered. If not to trick her, at least to distract her. But then she couldn't let on that she suspected her. Lizzie swallowed her anxiety and raised her chin. "You really think it would help?"

Trinity nodded. "I think it would help. And I think it would be fun." She leaned in with twinkling eyes. "When was the last time you had fun?"

Lizzie felt something flutter in the pit of her stomach. "I'll text my sisters."

The judge returned sixteen minutes late, and Maureen had bitten all ten nails to the nub. Three bled, but she barely felt it. She was lightheaded and sick to her stomach. Bruno got her coffee, but it turned cold in her hand, and she dropped it in a trash can untouched. Now she stood, waiting for judgment, with Alex beside her and Bruno's steady presence at her back. She stared straight ahead and avoided the black cloud of Carl's swirling anger that threatened to suck her in. 

"Please be seated." The company sat. The judge squared her shoulders. "After careful consideration, I find there are too many variables to make a long-term decision. I am going to extend the existing restraining order for six weeks."

Maureen visibly relaxed. Opposite her, Carl shook. "No! No, you can't do this. I am entitled to see my children!"

The judge rapped her hand on the bar. "We can discuss supervised visitation. However, before awarding custody, I want to speak with all parties in more detail, including both sets of grandparents and the twins themselves." She turned to Trevor. "Mr. Langan."

"Yes, your honor."

She gestured to her right. "Speak with my clerk to arrange a meeting within one week."

Trevor nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Mr. Buchanan, Ms. Cabot, you are responsible for arranging meetings with Carl's parents and Maureen's father and stepmother in the same time frame."

"Your honor—" Buchanan and Alex started.

The judge raised her hand, and they both fell silent. She nodded toward Buchanan.

"Your honor, Carl's parents live out of state."

"If they cannot make arrangements for an interview, you are welcome to withdraw them from custody consideration."

Buchanan pursed his lips. "Noted."

The judge turned to Alex. She hesitated. Olivia and Elliot would be busy with the assault trial over the next week, but if she brought that up, Buchanan was likely to make it about him. That might work in their favor, but it might blow up in her face. And the judge would give her the same answer about timing as she had given him. She took a breath. "We will make arrangements with Captain Benson and Detective Stabler at the earliest convenience."

"Good," the judge said. "Now, to get a clear picture of the children's perspective, I need them to be removed from any undue influence."

Maureen's hands trembled. "What does that mean?" she asked in a low voice. Alex shook her head.

"Therefore, I am awarding temporary custody to Mr. Randall Stabler—"

"No!" Carl barreled up out of his seat once again. "He's still a Stabler!"

"Sit down," the judge ordered. Buchanan yanked Carl into his chair. "I am awarding temporary custody to Mr. Randall Stabler, and I want the children moved today. Ms. Stabler."

Maureen straightened. "Yes, your honor."

"I need you to keep away from the twins until they've appeared in court or one week has passed, whichever comes first." The judge spoke with compassion, but Maureen started to panic.

"What—?" Her heart pounded in her ears.

Alex pressed Maureen's hand. "Your honor—"

The judge held up a hand. "Ms. Cabot, I am sympathetic to your client's situation. But to make an informed decision, I need a full current psychological profile, an in-depth report from Mr. Scola, a summary of the court case involving SVU, and individual interviews. Both parents and their representatives are entitled to be present when I speak with the children, but may not interfere. To facilitate an absence of coercion, until that meeting, they are to have no contact with any relatives save Mr. Randall Stabler and his mother—" She glanced at Randall.

"Bernadette," he said in a quiet croak.

"Ms. Bernadette Stabler." The judge raised her chin. "Do you understand?"

Carl looked poised to say no, but Buchanan held him back. "Yes, your honor."

"Yes, your honor," Alex echoed. Silent tears spilled down Maureen's cheeks.

"Mr. Stabler?"

Randall swallowed. This suddenly seemed a far more difficult undertaking than he had anticipated or agreed to. "Uh, yes, your honor."

"Good. It is so ordered."

Barba watched Olivia fiddle with her wedding ring in what was clearly an attempt to still her anxiety. Despite her bravado, the conversation shook her to her core, and she needed time and space to process it. He knew she wouldn't get it here, and worried she'd struggle to do so in her crowded home. He had to trust that her husband would make it happen. He'd gotten her to sit and run out to get take-out from the burger place a block away. Elliot was very much a caretaker. A few months ago, it would have surprised him. Now, it fit in with the man Barba had gotten to know. 

Barba's hand shook over his notepad. "Captain." He gestured for Cragen to join him in a corner. "Rollins said you tried to reach Elliot when Liv went missing."

Cragen nodded. "I found the private security firm he'd been working with, but they told me he'd given notice and was moving overseas for something more permanent. I left my name and number, but no one contacted me."

"So you don't know if Elliot got the message."

"I know he didn't," Cragen said with confidence. "If he had, he'd've shown up."

"And you're certain he didn't."

Cragen considered. "There were hundreds of cops involved, and I didn't interact with them all. But Elliot would want to be on the frontlines with my people in SVU. He would be where she was."

Barba pursed his lips. That was the problem. "Hypothetically, would Elliot kill to protect her?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation in his answer, nor did Barba expect any. It was not much of a hypothetical.

"Would Olivia lie on the record to protect him?"

"Yes," Cragen said with the same surety.

Barba sighed. "Do me a favor and don't mention that on the stand."

Elliot returned with lunch and carefully spread it on the conference room table. He got a selection of sandwiches, but Olivia wasn't interested in any of them. Elliot nodded for the others to take their picks and pulled out a small container of steak fries. He placed it in front of Olivia. She chewed her lip. "You have to eat something, Liv. Not a lot, but something." She looked up to meet his eyes. "It will help."

"Salty potatoes?" The ghost of a smile played on her lips.

Elliot nodded with bright eyes and a small smile. "Mama swears by them."

Olivia reached up to brush his cheek with her fingers. "Okay." She stood. "I'm gonna wash my hands." She quietly walked out of the room. As soon as she disappeared into the corridor, Elliot's shoulders slumped, and despair took over his expression. Cragen replaced his sandwich on the table and approached his wayward detective.

"Son." He reached out to grip his shoulder.

"Don't." Elliot pulled away from Cragen's attempt at comfort. "Please don't try to make me feel better." His voice was a thready whisper, low and shaken. 

The depth of Elliot's anguish was painful to witness, just as it was with Olivia years ago. A more vengeful man might consider it appropriate to balance her reaction, to atone for his abandonment, but Cragen understood better than most. "She doesn't want or need your self-flagellation. She never has." Elliot's atonement must take the form of presence, not pain. "She wants you. Then and now."

Elliot let out a shuddering breath. Self-hatred was his close companion since childhood. There were far too many days his life felt like nothing beyond a series of failures and sins. Some lives he lost, some lives he stole, and some he simply could not save. He wanted to believe the attempt mattered, but on days like today, it felt futile. The monsters in the photos were sent to drag her down, chew her up, and spit her out. To linger, to lurch, and to launch back into her life just when she finally felt safe. Was he so different? Was he any different?

She wanted him then, and he didn't come, didn't even know to try, and it was all his fault. He had burned every bridge of communication. Even his own children kept the truth from him. How could she want him now? How could she forgive him, trust him, love him? Why should she? He didn't.

Cragen folded Elliot's shaking hands into his own and held them close together like a penitent in confession. "You're here." The quiet reminder grounded Elliot in the present, in the conference room, and he made a concerted effort to turn off the destructive thoughts. Cragen was right. Olivia didn't deserve that. "You're here now. Be here."

Elliot raised his eyes and gave a shaky nod. "Thanks, Cap." He hadn't wanted Cragen's, or anyone's, comfort, support, or absolution. But it was freely given and should be acknowledged.

"Dad!"

Lizzie rushed into the OCCB office so fast she stumbled over the last stair. Once she regained her balance, she blinked around. Elliot's desk was empty. The whole office was empty. It was so crowded the other day that she sweated despite the AC. But now it was empty, and she shivered in the cold and clutched her arms. She felt like crying.

"Liz?"

Lizzie jumped and turned her head toward the voice. Jet watched from her station with worried eyes. She stood and walked over quickly, reaching out when she got close, but Lizzie shrank away. Jet lowered her arms.

"Sorry, I—" Lizzie bit her lip. "I just—" She bit harder, so hard she nearly drew blood. The pain helped clear her head. "Sorry."

Jet tilted her head. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted— I was looking for my dad." Lizzie slowly lowered her arms and took a breath. "Do you know where he is?"

"With Barba." 

"Oh. Right." Lizzie's frantic thoughts spit out the information that Kathleen's trial was starting this week. "Right. Sorry."

"It's okay," Jet said, automatically. And it was okay for her to be there and to interrupt. But whatever caused that was likely not so okay. "Can I help?"

Lizzie chewed her lip again. "The— the doctor— Jamie's new doctor—" She stumbled over the words and sounded short of breath.

Jet frowned. "Come here." She guided Lizzie from the stairs to Elliot's desk, sat her in his chair, and ran to the break room to grab a bottle of water. She pressed the bottle into the back of Lizzie's neck until her breathing slowed. Jet pulled away, screwed off the top of the bottle, and held it out.

Lizzie accepted the water with gratitude. She sipped and sighed deeply. "Thank you."

Jet shook her head like it was nothing. "What were you saying about Jamie's doctor?"

"She's really pushy." Lizzie placed the bottle down on the desk and picked at the label. "She wants us to spend time together, says it's important to his recovery."

Jet looked confused. "You live together."

"No, me and her." She looked up nervously. "She wants us to go shopping together."

"Shopping?"

Lizzie’s cheeks flushed. "For sex toys." Jet's eyes went wide, and Lizzie wanted to sink into the floor. God, this was embarrassing. Though now that she said it out loud—Thank God she was talking to Jet and not Dad.

"Oh," Jet said flatly.

"I— we—" Lizzie waved flustered hands. "It's part of his therapy."

Jet pursed her lips. "Okay." 

Lizzie swallowed. "But she wants me to bring my sisters along, too." Jet's nostrils flared. Lizzie's eyes were wide with anxiety. "That's weird, right? A red flag? Do you think she's—" She shook her head. Just thinking this was ridiculous, but still. "I don't know, fishing for information or setting us up?"

"Maybe. Maybe not," Jet said. "Nothing notable came up in my search." Almost-doctor Trinity Santos appeared to be just what she said she was. "How did it come up?"

Lizzie scrunched her nose. "If I don't want to be alone with her, I can bring them."

"That's not entirely unreasonable." Jet looked thoughtful. She could tell Liz was nervous. "What did you say?"

"That I'd ask them to come along." Lizzie shrugged. She had no idea if that was the right call. That's why she was here.

"Did you?"

Lizzie shook her head. "Not yet. I came here to ask for advice." It was a job for a police detective, not an art teacher.

Jet nodded. "Do you think they'd wanna come?"

Lizzie blew air over her lips. It was a fair question. Two fair questions, depending on whether her suspicions-slash-paranoia were part of the ask. "Kathleen, yeah, probably. But I honestly don't think I've ever heard Maureen say the word sex." Lizzie remembered her big sister as something of a wild child when she was a teen, but she was too young to really parse the truth back then. And in Maureen's PTA Mom era, it was almost impossible to picture her in a sex shop.

Jet considered. "How about I come with you?"

Lizzie dropped her eyes to meet Jet's. "You?"

Jet nodded. "And Carmen, too. To observe." Lizzie mulled this over. Jet reached over to press her hand. "And I can get us all trackers in case it is some kind of trap. But more likely they're just observing, too. And most likely it's nothing. Okay?"

Lizzie swallowed. "Okay."

"Good." Jet pressed her hand again and pulled her up to standing. "Now, let's get you home."