Chapter Text
Elliot paces, back and forth, back and forth in the dimly lit environment of the OCCB squadroom.
Ayanna is pacing too; her phone pressed tightly to her ear as she has tense conversation after tense conversation and Elliot knows better than to interrupt, no matter how much he might want to right now.
The city is in darkness, Wheatley having somehow taken over the power grid and Elliot knows, he knows that now more than ever, they need to tread really fucking carefully.
It was bad enough when he was just throwing his weight around, creating small but manageable pockets of chaos but this?
Elliot is very glad of his rank right now, and that it affords him reprieve from however many different people Ayanna is now either being yelled at by, or having to liaise with.
This is gonna be alphabet soup, Elliot thinks to himself with a sigh. Regretting the decision to let him loose now, are you? He thinks to whichever higher up idiot at the FBI who decided that it was a good idea to let Richard Wheatley walk the streets of New York City as a free man, after everything.
Cooperation my ass, Elliot blows out a breath, perching on the edge of his desk. It’s mostly dark here, away from the dim lighting afforded by the moon outside, the glow of laptop screens from where Jet and Malachi are working diligently, trying to reverse whatever it is that Wheatley has done this time.
Watching Ayanna end one call only to immediately receive another, Elliot glances down at his own cell, clutched in his fingers. At least the cell towers have their own generators, he thinks, thankful for small mercies. Else we’d really be up shit creek.
The urge is too strong to resist, and he finds himself bringing up Olivia’s contact, tapping to call her. The phone is warm from his hand when he presses it to his ear, and he clicks his tongue a few times as the ringing tone sounds in his ear. Eventually, it switches to voicemail; he listens to her voice on the message but hangs up before the beep.
Guess she’s busy, he thinks, his phone solid against his thigh as he lowers his hand, pursing his lips as he looks out towards the windows and the darkened city beyond. Probably sheer fucking mayhem out there, he thinks. Which is exactly what Wheatley wanted.
Making a snap decision, he taps on her name for the second time, returning the device to his ear. It rings out again, cutting across to her voicemail but he doesn’t hang up this time; waits patiently for the beep instead.
“Hey Liv,” he says quickly and quietly once he’s prompted. “I’m guessing you’re too busy to answer your phone right now, so I’m just calling to tell you that we know who it is, and we’re working on it, and uh…” He hesitates. Fuck it. “Just stay safe, yeah?” He asks her. “And uh… call me, when you get this?”
He barely gets the words out before the second beep, but he manages it, waiting for the message to save before hanging up, just in time as Ayanna starts waving at him from across the room.
***
Between the mess of agencies at the power plant and fielding phone calls from both Kathleen and his Mom - the former finally having made it to his place to keep the latter company for the duration - it’s over two hours before Elliot realises that Olivia hasn’t called him back.
He tries not to be hurt by it; tries to rationalise that as a Captain, she’s likely to be incredibly busy right now but…
Surely she’s had a chance to look at her phone, see my voicemail? He thinks. We’re in a good place… surely she would’ve had a second to shoot me a text if she didn’t have time for a phone call.
No sooner has the thought entered his head than his phone rings in it’s cradle on the dashboard of his Tahoe, displaying Unknown Number on the screen. Pulling over to the side of the road, he quickly glances across to Ayanna in the passenger seat before answering.
“Stabler.”
“Hello there, Elliot.” Wheatley’s gleeful voice sounds from the Tahoe’s sound system.
Elliot grits his teeth. Play nice, he reminds himself. “Wheatley,” he grinds out. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” He asks, grimacing.
Wheatley’s answering chuckle sets Elliot’s teeth on edge. “Right to the point, I like it,” he responds. “After all, we’ve all got far better things to be doing than this, haven’t we?”
Elliot rolls his eyes. “The point, Wheatley?” He prompts the man.
Wheatley tuts. “So impatient,” he scolds him. “Tell you what, Elliot,” he begins. “I’m a reasonable man.” A pause. “I’ll give you a choice.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Elliot can see Ayanna nod minutely; keeping her mouth shut lest Wheatley realise that she was there.
“What do you mean?” Elliot says after a long moment.
Elliot can almost hear Wheatley rolling his eyes in response. “It’s simple,” he replies slowly, like he’s talking to a five-year-old. “I can turn the power back on right now,” he says. “Stop the looting, the violence before it gets any worse, prevent needless deaths, you know what I mean.”
He quiets, and Elliot knows he’s going to have to play along with this game, at least for now. “What’s the catch?” He asks.
Wheatley chuckles. “You know me so well, Elliot,” he replies brightly. “I can do it…” He says, tone darkening. “Right here. Right now. But it’ll cost you.”
There it is, Elliot thinks. “Cost me what?” He asks curiously, bracing himself for anything; knowing Wheatley it could be anything.
Another chuckle, this one with a darker tone to it that sets Elliot’s teeth on edge. “You know, not everyone is too busy to answer their phones,” he says pointedly, his choice of words dropping Elliot’s heart into the soles of his boots.
“Wheatley-” He chokes out, only to be interrupted.
“It’ll cost you her.”