#stablerisi

“Mr. Carisi, I’ve ruled,” she interrupted him in turn, playing her part as well as he was. “Call the next case.”

The stakes of his arraignment were high, but not for the usual reasons.

Carisi glanced over at the defendant. Izak Bekher barely reacted while his lawyer looked a little too self-satisfied. Good. Weiss’ ego would ensure their plan would work. Izak Bekher would make bail, Weiss would be assured his job was complete, it would seem that Bekher was a free man until trial, solidly back in the employ of Richard Wheatley. In truth, he worked for Elliot Stabler and his team.

Sonny huffed lowly and gathered his files and briefcase. As he retreated to the exit at the back of the courtroom, he briefly lowered the facade of frustration and threw a smirk toward his partner in technically-legal crime. Elliot rose to also vacate the faux tension of the room, letting a small smile of his own flit across his lips.

Outside the large wooden doors, Elliot and Sonny walked in step with each other, passing through the bustle of people on their way to or from the day’s legal proceedings.

“Good job, Counselor,” Stabler broke the silence.

“Weiss definitely bought it,” Carisi replied quietly. “He was quick to believe he won that one.”

“We’re lucky he has an ego; you were laying it on a little thick.”

The ADA snapped his head toward his companion, briefly shocked at the critique before he realized that the Detective was joking. Sonny let out a surprised and derisive huff. “Oh please, I had Weiss and everyone in that gallery convinced.”

“Maybe you missed your calling.”

This was the first time that Stabler seemed even remotely light to Sonny. He seemed a little more human. “Do you ever think all this isn’t your calling?” He asked the Detective as they walked together.

Elliot didn’t pause before answering, “No.”

“Me either,” Sonny said, and it was the truth. He and Elliot were alike in that way. They held an undying, and probably reckless need to help others.

The brief lightness in Elliot was gone as quickly as it had graced his harsh features. It was replaced by the magnetic resolve that was apparent to anyone who knew him. The blind and all-consuming desire for what he would call Justice, but to others might bare the name Vengeance.

They walked in silence for a long moment. Sonny reflected on the Detective’s quip. Elliot hadn’t been... funny around him yet. Since they’d met not so long ago, Elliot had been deathly serious and churning with turmoil though not without good reason.

Sonny remembered asking his former Captain about him, as they stood in the biting cold of New York City streets in the midst of their work to find a missing girl.

“How’s your friend Stabler doing?” He was asking both out of concern for his old boss, and to warn her of the office politics that she was now unwittingly embroiled in.

“I’ve talked to him a few times, but... you know.” Her words evaporated with the steam of her breath, dancing across the cold winter air.

“He’s had a rough road.”

“Yeah. I’m worried for him,” she replied, her genuine concern written on her face.

“I don’t know if it’s the healthiest thing for him to investigate his own wife’s murder.”

“Do you wanna tell him that?”

He looked knowingly at her.

“...What?”

“The Eight Floor’s been asking me what went on with him when he broke into your interrogation room.”

Elliot was pouring every single part of himself into this case - a practice that Sonny had slowly learned to abandon over the years - and he was doing it with little regard to the effect it was having on everyone around him. While Sonny had learned that getting too personally involved could cost you the justice that was the goal in the first place, he could scarcely imagine investigating a loved one’s murder. He did know that if he was in the same position, he would do anything - anything - to get justice. He imagined it was next to impossible for Elliot have faith in anything right now.

Sonny looked at the broken man beside him and felt strangely protective. “Do you really think Bekher will follow through? You can trust him?”

“Of course I don’t trust him, but it’s a step closer to taking Wheatley down.”

They stopped walking and Elliot met Sonny’s eyes. Sonny thought he saw the older man soften, just a bit. That softness grew more noticeable in Elliot’s voice than his demeanor as he spoke uncharacteristically softly, “I am glad I can trust you.”

Sonny could suddenly feel his heartbeat quicken, and he couldn’t quite understand why. “You can trust Olivia too,” Sonny deflected thickly. He suddenly felt so foolish. Where had the confidence and poise of the convincing actor ADA Carisi gone? He lowered his gaze, hoping that Elliot couldn’t see the flush of his cheeks, or hear the loud thumping in his chest.

The Detective placed a steady hand on Sonny’s shoulder. “I can see why she trusts you too. You’re good at your job.”

Sonny started walking again to further hide his boyish embarrassment. “I’m glad I could help. Can help,” he clarified quickly. “Because I can still help, you know, if you need any more help. It won’t be in my jurisdiction to try Wheatley when you get him, but if you need me to call the other DAs office, or-”

“Carisi,” Elliot interrupted the younger man’s rambling and gently grabbed his arm to halt his steps. “Thank you.”