Chapter Text
The argument didn’t surprise either of them. After tailing a lead in an underground money laundering circle, one that was churning shocking amounts of ill-gotten funds through a semi-illegal casino front and a couple of associated bars, they’d looped in Financial Crimes to keep things by the book. The next day, their lead witness revealed sexual assault and rape that was taking place, propagated and hidden by the higher-ups of the organization, and Bell couldn’t think of a single reason to avoid bringing in SVU other than to prevent this exact debate with her detective. He doesn’t disappoint.
“Look – we know they’re understaffed; I don’t want to put this on her.”
“It’s not asking a personal favor, Stabler, it’s a legitimate reason for OC and SVU to partner. I know that can sometimes be complicated for you –”
“Not complicated. But I’m trying to be aware –”
“And your ‘awareness’ of Captain Benson can’t be a reason that we don’t –”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t have an ‘awareness’ –”
“Stabler, this is an asinine conversation, and I –”
“So you’re calling me an ass, now?”
“No! That is not what –” she pauses, noting the gleam in his eyes. “Kidding, huh?” He nods, smile widening. “Trying to distract me from your preoccupation with Captain Benson?” That slows him down. His grin fades, and he fidgets.
Ayanna takes sympathy on her second-in-command. He’s a good cop, and loyal to his bones. She knows that. She also knows that for all his bluster and the fact that he is built like a freaking gladiator, he is deeply motivated by a need to defend those he deems his. And, once that happens, he can be not only surprisingly kind, but oddly considerate. She counts herself lucky that she – and her squad – seem to have qualified for his possessive streak.
She is not, however, unaware that there is a hierarchy to the intensity and scale of Elliot Stabler’s rage-induced protective instincts. His children, of course, are the highest on that list. She knows she ranks high, and Jet does, as well. She thinks Jet probably reminds him of his daughters, falling within the range of the age span of his own children. But Jet triggers something else with him – a young, female, brunette detective who isn’t necessarily aware of the intellect and influence she wields. Which leads her to the individual that she’s sure ranks above her in Elliot Stabler’s scale… Captain Benson.
Ayanna can’t quite get a read on Olivia Benson. She’s beautiful, yes. But frankly, Ayanna’s often annoyed by the perception of her (mostly male) colleagues that as a lesbian, she only has an appreciation for the female gender. That’s not how it works. She can appreciate beauty, obvious or not, in a variety of forms. And honestly, she thinks everyone else can, too; it’s just an antiquated perspective anchored in the old guard of the NYPD that precludes speaking of it. She’d be willing to bet Captain Benson can appreciate beauty in a variety of forms. Not that she’d ever tell Stabler that; his eyes would do that weird, heightened intensity thing and then he’d be squirrely (and useless to her as her lead detective) for hours.
So, yes, Benson is an attractive woman. But Ayanna would venture to guess that it’s something deeper than pure looks, because there is something incredibly… compelling about the Captain. She wonders what Stabler saw in their years together, because much of what she finds so fascinating about Captain Benson is how much she’s overcome – a vicious abduction and assault accompanied by an NYPD manhunt that she herself had participated in as a rookie – and a rapid rise through the ranks with not only deep foundations of support from significant figures in the brass, but also an almost heroine-like worship from the New York media. Frankly, it’s unheard of on many levels: a sex crimes detective surviving sexual assault and effectively remaining on the job, a woman ascending in a male-dominated field and retaining her respect and power, and a cop maintaining a beloved status in New York City public opinion and the press.
Ayanna would be jealous if she weren’t so impressed. And curious.
The other interesting thing about Benson is the wild and unceasing effect that she has on Stabler. Ayanna has learned that it’s not the same each time – she’s seen Stabler avoid her, follow her at a distance like a shadow, watch her with admiration and pride, and trail after her like he needs her approval and affection. It’s like a “choose your own adventure” story each time she brings in SVU to see what persona Stabler chooses, but regardless, he is always highly invested – and cognizant of whatever Captain Benson does.
So, she thinks, they’re back in an avoidance stage. A bit inconvenient, considering she needs SVU in here now. Besides the fact that it’s the right thing to do, Benson will have her head if she realizes the context of this case and learns that Ayanna called in Financial Crimes for the money laundering and sanctions coverage but neglected SVU for the sexual assault. The implications of that favoritism are ugly, heavy, and not something that she’s willing to do, even with Stabler’s reticence.
“Elliot. We don’t have a choice here. We have to call her into this.” She gestures to the interview room, that doesn’t currently hold a suspect, but contains Jet, an abundance of donut options, and their informant (and victim). “I can’t get through to that girl. She’s been traumatized, and she’s not the only one. I know you have a background here, but you saw as well as I did that she won’t let a man near her. And she’s…”
“Combative. I know.”
He rubs at his jaw and narrows his eyes at her, ticking off a couple of his tells, but not all. That settles her a bit – he’s not the most easy going of men, but after nearly three years of working with him, she can usually tell when his anxiety and PTSD have ratcheted to the point that she should be concerned. Now… he just seems nervous.
She knows he went to retrieve Captain Benson’s son following the gang attack last month; she wonders if anything happened that would contribute to his uncertainty now. She might ask him about it after they close this – she thinks she might have achieved a status of being able to push him to reveal just a bit more about what’s feeling rather than shutting it off and hitting the gym. But not now. Now, she just needs him to know that Benson is joining them, and he’s got to hold himself together.
“Yeah, okay. Let me call her? I’ve been trying…”
“You’ve been trying?”
“I’m not always the best with communication, and –”
“Jesus, Stabler, talk about an understatement.”
“Well, come on, don’t kick me while I’m down. I just – you recommended the therapy, and there were some good… discussions.”
“I’m glad to hear that’s still going, Elliot.”
“Yeah, well. So that was going, and then Liv called and need help…”
“After BX9, after the Duarte hit.”
“Yeah, she took that… hard. She was still hurt, too. She’d sent Noah away to keep him safe – couple of hours drive, and asked me to go get him while she was tying it up.”
“Wow. That’s…”
“Yeah. You know. Kids are… well if you trust someone with your kid,” he trails off, brows furrowed.
“You trust someone with your child, you trust them implicitly. That’s a good thing, Stabler.”
The crease in his brow lessens, and he turns toward her. “Yeah. But I did… leave her. Neglect her. Might be talking about it some in that therapy.”
She smiles at the dismissive way he describes it but admits to it in one swoop. “Well, I think that’s a good thing.”
“Right. But when I left, and then when I came back at first. I wasn’t exactly consistent with communicating with her. So, I think she trusts me with her kid, but doesn’t trust me to… be there for her.”
“You can only change that with consistency and time.”
“Well, you sound like the therapist.”
“Your therapist,” she says, shaking her head at the stubbornness, even as he’s trying to ask for her advice in a roundabout manner.
“Yeah, okay.”
They settle for a minute, a minute they really don’t have with the case, but she senses he needs it. They side-eye each other and smile, and she’s struck by how much she appreciates her partnership and comradery with this man who is so, so unlike her. This man who she assumed she might hate in the beginning, despite feeling deeply compassionate for his circumstances. And she wonders, not for the first time, what he was like with Benson, his longest, most significant partner. She’s not sure if this case excites her or gives her pause, knowing that at minimum she has gained greater insight into the Benson and Stabler dynamic with every case they’ve jointly worked.
“So you think she has doubts, when it comes to you?”
“She deserves to think that. I’ve been trying to be more… there. You know, text her, call her. My therapist said to be available to her.”
“I think that’s sound advice.”
“Well, then. Let me be the one to call her on this?
Well, goddamnit. She doesn’t begrudge helping Elliot; really, under any circumstances. And they have been progressing towards a better place since her breakdown, bracketed by his arms, in her dimly lit kitchen. It had been a bit vindicating and humiliating all at once, but she thinks it was a catalyst she needed to start to trust him again. Her words hadn’t been a lie, though – she’s not ready. She needs to see stability, consistency, just… patterns of behavior. She’s spent her life pulling at the threads of inconsistent and unequal relationships, and while she doesn’t regret the course she has taken, she wants a more solid foundation for her son.
So she doesn’t mind helping Elliot, and assisting the OC is part of her actual job description when the case connections call for it. But she has literally no one to call upon. Fin and Bruno are strapped finishing the Bronx cases, and Velasco and Muncy are covering their Manhattan contingent. Muncy shows such promise but needs undivided support from Velasco in these earlier days. And Bruno isn’t new to the job, but he’s been burned – and she thinks that a solid partnership with Fin will convince him to stay (and she needs him to stay; she needs the headcount).
She’s exhausted, and she still feels the echo of bruises on her face and ribs. She still feels the sarcastic nature of Duarte instigating her, prodding at her side, and it’s still sometimes a surprise when she finds that it’s a phantom presence. He’s gone, and she feels a physical pang when the replay starts in her mind. It’s the same each time – a slightly flirty amends in a bar, an ask outside of a cab that would have changed everything, and then she pictures that machete over her head and thinks about the way his life was snuffed out with steel and blood on the floor of a bodega.
She heaves a sigh, trying to push it away. The weight of… everything lately feels like it’s pressing her down, and it’s more and more difficult to shoulder through it. She’s wary when she feels like this. When she’s anxiety-ridden, grieving – that’s when the memories she would just as soon not revisit are closest to the surface. And it’s the last thing she needs.
Fin appears in her doorway; she expected him after she doled out assignments and retreated for a moment.
“Okay, Cap?” Funny thing about Fin – she thinks he conveys more concern the fewer words he utters when he checks in on her. Two words. He must be really worried.
She gives him an eyeroll, which is practically a handshake between the two of them at this point. “Just tired. This is the right breakout, Fin. I can help OC on my own.”
“You help anyone on your own. I don’t like that you don’t have a partner heading over there.”
She smiles. “I’d prefer you with me. And I…”
“You miss Amanda.”
“Well,” she tilts her head at him. The usually avoid conversations like this. They know it’s there, know they’ll be there for each other, but they rarely actually talk about it. “Yes.”
“Me, too.”
They fall silent, and she can’t deny there is something soothing about checking off her more straightforward email requests while Fin fiddles on his phone in her office. She thinks maybe he knew she just needed some physical proximity and appreciates that he doesn’t make her talk about it or delve any further. He’s just… there.
“I like it better when you have one of us with you.”
She startles at that. He knows she can take care of herself; he’s defensive of her when the moment calls but he doesn’t usually attempt to be this overtly protective. For the first time, she considers that the BX9 attack and case might have triggered some underlying issues for him, too.
She gives a softer smile than she usually would, with that in mind. “I’ll be okay Fin. Stabler will be with me. I won’t be alone.”
He gives her a smirk that confuses her a bit – it’s more sad than sanctimonious. “Yeah. You’ll have your partner.”
Olivia packs up her things, knowing she’ll have to meet Bell and Elliot early, and she wants time for an unrushed dinner with Noah. But she pauses next to Fin on her way out, a light hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been my partner for years and you know it,” she whispers with a grin.
“We can’t thank you enough for helping out here, especially given the staffing issues of late,” Sergeant Bell says with a grateful smile, ushering Olivia past the industrial open space and into her office. Jet’s eyes track them – she’ll have to have a word with her with at least attempting to mask the curiosity. Stabler trails them, hovering behind, but in between the space their two bodies make.
“Thank you, Liv,” he says, and it sounds almost like a benediction. Ayanna adds another to-do to her list: talk to Jet but also tell Stabler to cool it and quit trying to convey his gratitude to her for their personal lives in a mundane “thanks for helping” at work. She shakes her head. Gen Z. And men.
“Absolutely. I’m happy to help. You said her name is Kate? And she refuses to speak to a male detective?”
Ayanna eyes her detective and the Captain. They’re not directly making eye contact with each other, but they are standing comically, unnecessarily close to each other. She wonders if they are even aware of it. “That’s right. She’s been violent, at times, and sometimes she’s pretty sedate.”
“That’s not uncommon,” Liv says, and Stabler nods assuredly. He picks up the thread.
“When we busted the casino, we thought it was a front for a crime ring that we’ve heard listed under the Lesewski family.”
“Gathering Storm.”
“Yeah, that was the name of the casino, and we’ve heard it referenced as the name of the ring itself.”
“Subtle.”
“Yeah, well. You should have seen the casino. Subtlety is not their nature. So we knew that they were laundering the money, using the casino along with some restaurants and bars as a front. Cleaning it through the cash-only overhead, and then funneling it within their legitimate returns.”
“That type of money laundering front would only last so long,” Liv muses.
“Exactly. There’s a cap to the sums that it could cover without tripping suspicious activity reporting. They wouldn’t have – we only took a closer look at them because of gang reporting around the Lesewski family… and then, Kate.”
“You think they’re going to go bigger.”
“If they haven’t already.”
“And Kate accused them of?”
“Multiple counts of rape, assault, and the threat of continued assault to keep her quiet. But she’s said she’s not the only one; she hasn’t told us details but enough that it sounds like they may be running a sex trafficking ring, as well.”
Ayanna leans forward. “She’s a victim, Liv, but she wasn’t trafficked. She’s a family friend – I don’t know if she saw more than she should or if she was involved criminally. But she absolutely knows more than what she told us. We want to bring them down on all fronts. Rape, trafficking, money laundering, gang recruitment.”
Olivia is reading the file while taking it all in, studiously avoiding eye contact with Elliot, which she breaks as Ayanna finishes speaking. They lock eyes, and she gives a slight nod.
“Okay. Let me talk to her. You two are going to observe, right?”
“We’ll be right there, Liv.” Ayanna watches as Stabler assists her from her chair, follows her with a hand at the small of her back, hovering, but not touching.
“Kate? Kate?” Olivia tilts her head, looking at the scowling young woman. Her arms are folded mutinously in front of her chest, and her blonde hair falls in slightly greasy waves over her shoulders. She’s tall, but has a slightly elfin appearance to her face, with delicate features that are belied by her mulish expression. She raises her greyish blue eyes, the only response Liv receives.
“I’m Captain Benson,” she says settling into the chair on the opposite side of the steel table. “I lead what we call the Special Victims Unit – do you know what that is?”
Kate nods affirmatively, surprising Olivia. Behind the glass, Elliot raises his eyebrows in question to his sergeant.
“You do? Do you want to – to tell me what it is? What you know about it?”
“You lead it, right? Isn’t it kind of a problem if you need me to do that?” Kate scoffs, scooting her chair backwards and crossing her ankles.
“Well, I know what it means. I’m more interested in your perception.”
“Cause you care and shit.”
“Yes, I do care. And shit.”
Kate rolls her eyes. There’s a light smile, as well, but it has an unkind glint to it. “Girls who got raped.”
Elliot sucks in a breath, and Ayanna wonders if the years away have softened him in some areas while they’ve hardened him in others. He had to have had these conversations every day, but now he seems devastated. She notices that his eyes are focused on Liv. She thinks about her own former partner; knows that for some partnerships, operating without the other is like cutting off a limb.
Olivia doesn’t miss a beat. “For anyone, of any gender, who is a victim of rape or sexual assault, yes. I know you’ve spoken to other detectives, Kate, but could you tell me what happened to you?”
Kate’s eyes seem to crystallize, harden. Olivia knows that Elliot and Bell can’t see closely enough to see that, but a dash of cold shoots down her spine and she can’t help but risk a glance over her shoulder. For the first time in years, she doesn’t want to be alone in an interrogation room, and it makes no sense – she’s sitting with the victim.
“Because you need it to take down the Lesewski’s.”
“Because we want to get justice for you, Kate. That is the priority.”
“Yeah? You promise?”
“I promise. You are what’s important to me.”
Elliot starts to pace behind the glass, warning signals that he can’t quite place sounding in his mind. He doesn’t trust himself all the time when it comes to the people he loves. He can fly off the handle and overreact in the name of protecting them, and he knows from both his children and Liv that it is – more often than not – unappreciated. But everything in his body tells him they have missed something here, and he sent Liv straight into it. Alone.
Ayanna turns to him. “What has you amped. What are you thinking?”
“She seem like a victim to you?”
“Admittedly, Stabler, you would know better than I. But Benson is holding steady.”
“Of course, she’ll hold steady. She’s working with a vic. She’s not gonna strong-arm her. But I don’t know… Ayanna, something feels off.” They both turn to the women on the other side of the glass, engaged in a bit of a stare-down.
“If anything goes sideways, we’re right here. She’s safe, Stabler.” His posture doesn’t ease.
“You are what’s important,” Olivia reiterates, and Elliot flexes his hands, resisting the urge to yank her out of there. He has no justification – he can’t say why his anxiety is flaring. Is it just a PTSD response? Seeing her back in the box with a vic? But he’s seen that before, with a suspect – which should be worse, right?
Olivia forges on, all soft voice and gentle, leading questions. “Can you just tell me what happened, Kate?”
“They raped me.”
“Who? Can you tell me who?”
“Does it matter. A bunch. Prokov told the crew to take what they wanted.”
“Prokov. He’s the Lesewskis' right hand man, right?”
“Yeah. Bastards, both of them.”
“Okay. I’m so sorry they hurt you, Kate. Can you tell me what happened to you?”
“A shit ton has happened to me.”
“Okay, Kate. Tell me, please. How did they hurt you?”
Kate recoils, like she was hypnotized and that was a trigger phrase. Her posture is no longer in repose, relaxed – she is tense, poised to attack. Elliot can tell Olivia senses it; she stiffens, moves herself out of striking distance, but keeps her gaze resolutely on Kate.
Elliot looks at Bell beseechingly. Something is wrong.
“Give her a minute, Stabler. We don’t know what this is.”
“Something is off and you know it – she shouldn’t be in there alone.”
“Kate is a victim, Elliot. And Benson can handle herself.” Elliot nods, but he’s prowling the viewing window back and forth, and Ayanna knows she has a short leash before he calls it; he’s itching to get in there.
Kate leans forward, looks Olivia up and down in an appraising way that has Ayanna touching the gun on her hip and second-guessing the words she just uttered. Liv doesn’t move, but Ayanna knows she’s had a lot of years to practice hiding the fear.
“You want to question me about what they did? To hurt me? To degrade me? While you record it, and have people watch behind that mirror? You want to humiliate me more?”
“I know this is difficult, Kate, but that’s not what this is.”
“You do know, don’t you?”
“I – I’m sorry?”
“That’s not lip service from you. You know. You know what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t, Kate, but I want to understand what you –”
“I know who you are. I know what happened to you. There’s a whole Wikipedia article on you – did you know that? You do know what I’m talking about.”
Olivia’s back goes ramrod straight, and Ayanna can’t decide if it’s a good or bad thing that they can’t see her face from behind the two-way mirror. Elliot has frozen, stiffened entirely, and is looking at the back of Olivia’s head like he can unlock her secrets through will alone.
Shit. She’s not sure exactly what Kate’s referencing – she’s checked it out a time or two and Liv’s Wikipedia page does not hold back; focuses significantly on both the Lewis abductions. Of course there’s also a smattering of hostage negotiations, the kidnapping of her son, and a whole lot of commendations and promotions with varying degrees of fanfare.
“What term do you guys use? Quid pro quo? Or is that just sleazy lawyers?” Kate continues. “Whatever. You want me so that you can take down the Lesewski’s, not because you want to help me. Stop it with the bleeding heart eyes. I’ll still tell you. But, you gotta work for it. You want to know what happened to me? You want me to sit here and tell you all the horrible shit that happened to me, every man that made me feel disgusting and worthless? You do it, too.” They both heave a horrified breath; Olivia doesn’t move.
Kate barrels on, revenge gleaming in her eyes like the hurt she’s inflicting here alleviates the hurt she received. “You want me to show you my scars? You show me yours first.”
Ayanna leans backward, like the blow of the ask was physical, and just as quickly feels a grip around her forearm. She looks up, and Stabler’s eyes are gut-wrenching. Bluer than usual, the tears elongate his pupils, but he doggedly shakes his head and glares at her. “Ayanna. What the fuck is she talking about?”