Juliet and Juliet?

Chapter 10

The elevator doors had just started to slide open on the 7th floor when a voice from Goldie's radio broke the taut silence.

"Retriever, this is Command, do you copy?"

Elliot placed and held a finger on the 'doors closed' button to prevent them sliding open any further as Goldie responded to his radio.

"Retriever copy, go ahead Command." Goldie said as the elevator doors closed.

"Movement on '11' Sir, 'the package' is in the hallway with ESU," the agent from the Command Post advised.

Elliot and Goldie stared at each other in disbelief.

The 'Go Team' hadn't reported entering the floor. They hadn't even confirmed they had reached '11' yet.

Goldie's tone was tense as he spoke into the radio, " 'Go Team', what's your twenty? " he asked urgently.

"This is 'Go Team', Retriever. Approaching '11'. No sign of Connors or Brennan," the agent reported.

A confused Goldie continued to look at Elliot. "Command, what's Yankee's twenty?" he asked, noticing the subtle shift in Stabler's stance.

Elliot held his breath.

"Yankee is still down Sir."

Elliot moved his finger from the 'doors closed' button to the still lit '11' on the floor selection panel. He tilted his head towards the doors, "If the 'Go Team' are approaching '11', the first Tact Team were compromised on '6' and there's no sign of Connors," he shook his head," It has to be Brennan with Cabot."

He nodded his head back to the illuminated button, "We gotta go up. You have Teams sweeping each floor, the mobile Command Post have a visual on every floor, they don't see anyone on '7'. Connors wouldn't be dumb enough to sit on the same floor all this time with ESU waiting downstairs" Elliot said calmly hoping that Goldie could see the logic in his statement.

Goldie considered everything Elliot had said and weighed up the options as he spoke to the Command Post, "Command, can you confirm it's David Brennan with 'the package'?'"

"I'm not sure Lieutenant, I'm pulling up his personnel file to compare images," the voice said hurriedly.

Goldie gripped the radio tighter in his hand, "Get me a visual confirmation NOW from someone who doesn't need to look at a goddamn file photo. Is Thomson in there?" he barked impatiently.

There was a pause.

"Sir, this is Thomson. I just need a minute to get a clear visual..." the agent paused.

Elliot's frustration was increasing as precious seconds ticked by, 'C'mon, c'mon,' his thoughts screamed as his mind flashed back to the grainy image of Olivia lying motionless on the 11th floor hallway.

The radio crackled into life.

"Confirmed. ESU is Agent David Brennan," Agent Thomson yelled into the radio.

Elliot pressed the button for the 11th floor.

Goldie barked into his radio, " 'GO TEAM' HOLD YOUR POSITION. REPEAT. HOLD YOUR POSITION. DO NOT ENTER THE FLOOR. DO YOU COPY?" he instructed.

"Copy that." the 'Go Team' Leader confirmed.

"Command, what's happening on '11'?" Goldie demanded.

The agent in the mobile Command Post relayed every movement Alex and the ESU agent were making as they walked along the hallway towards the elevators.

As the elevator approached '11', Elliot felt a tightening in his gut, instinct screaming at him, 'something's not right.'

The constant throbbing in her head reminded her of her wild days as a student at Siena College, only this pain wasn't a hangover.

Olivia winced in pain.

She lay motionless on her left side trying to find the strength to get up, she tried to open her eyes but it was too much effort. She cautiously cracked one eye open and closed it quickly, the fluorescent lighting from the hallway blinding her.

A noise from somewhere behind her brought her back from the brink of slumber. She strained, trying to hear it again. After a few seconds, she heard a man's voice, hushed tones spoken in anger. She frowned in concentration and grimaced at the pain the action caused.

As her mind began to clear, her brain started to focus. Awareness flooded her senses as she remembered where she was and why she was on the floor, 'He shot me...son of a bitch...he shot me.' she swallowed a wave of nausea as she remembered the sickening 'crack' her head had made as it connected with the solid floor.

She sucked in a breath as she heard another voice. Her eyes flew open, oblivious to the harsh hallway lighting.

'Alex...' her mind screamed in recognition.

She tried unsuccessfully to sit up.

The pain at the back of her head made her skull feel heavy, weighing her down like an anchor. She felt as though she was tethered to the floor. Her left arm was pinned beneath her. She needed to roll her body to the right to free the aching limb. She placed her right hand on the floor by her left side to provide the balance needed to propel her torso onto her back. She halted her movement as she felt a sticky, wetness underneath her fingers. She raised her hand and looked at the blood soaked palm and digits, she swallowed anxiously trying to suppress the rising panic coursing through her body.

She placed the bloody hand back on the floor, counted herself in, '1...2...3', sucked in a breath, preparing herself for the pain she knew would come and pushed herself over on to her back. She let out a muted groan as the bullet wound in her side made its painful presence known.

She lay quietly listening for any movement that would indicate she had been heard.

Nothing.

She let out the ragged breath she had been holding. Blood was rushing back through the veins of her newly freed left arm, causing more discomfort to her already aching body. She began to flex the fingers of the blood soaked limb in an attempt to speed up the healing process. She raised her right hand to her head, tilted forward slightly, sllowing her fingers to reach up and touch the back of her skull, she felt wetness matting her hair and knew it was blood.

'Explains the need for sleep,' she mused, knowing she had an open head wound and a probable concussion. The fingers on her left hand began to feel like her own again and she moved them to the burning sensation in her left side, below her ribs. She cautiously pressed her thumb into the torn material of her favorite black shirt and felt the open wound in her side.

She gasped at the pain the gentle pressure had caused. She moved slightly to the right, sliding her thumb underneath her side. She winced at the pain but was relieved to feel an exit wound.

The bullet had gone through.

She blew out a breath taking inventory of her wounds and the limits they now placed on her mobility. She needed to get to Alex, needed to protect her. She moved both hands out in a sweeping motion trying to locate her weapon.

As her left hand retrieved the Glock from beside her left knee she heard an ominous 'thud' and a cry of pain.

'Alex!'