Disclaimer: They're Dicks. I just borrowed them, but I haven't given them back yet. Is that wrong?

Authors Note: I just wanted to thank everyone who left such wonderful reviews for my other story. It's always nice to have your first story so warmly received :) This one's a bit darker, and it'll be longer... I realize the Olivia being in trouble stories are overdone, but I like taking a cliche plot and trying to put an original spin on it :) Let me know what you think!

Twisted Us
Chapter One
Written by Shay

16th Precinct
SVU Squad room
August 7, 2006

"Where the hell is Benson?" Captain Cragen demanded to know as he exited his office. His lips were set at an even line, but a dash of worry dotted his brow as he surveyed his detectives.

The look on Elliot's face was one of undeniable concern, his frown darkening his features as he sat back in his chair. "She's not answering her cell."

"Or her home line," Munch added, his tone serious. "Called four times, all went to the machine."

"Not in court," Fin contributed as he reentered the room. "Novak hasn't seen her since yesterday."

Silence enveloped the three men, as far as silence was possible in the busy squad room. The same thought weighed heavily on all three minds: it wasn't like Olivia to be more than fifteen minutes late without calling and here it was nearing eleven. Four hours late.

"I don't like this, Cap," Elliot voiced their thoughts, his frown deepening. "She hasn't called, nobody's seen her and she's not answering her phone. Something's not right."

The words hung heavily in the air and Cragen exhaled loudly.

"All right, here's what I want done. John, keep trying her phones. Fin, I want you to check the traffic report; see if there's been any accidents between here and her apartment. Elliot, head on over to her place, make sure everything's in order over there. Let's not panic just yet; Olivia's a damn good cop and more than capable of handling herself."

A trio of heads acknowledged his words with a nod; Fin dropping into his chair while Elliot vacated his. The younger man paused just inside the door to the bullpen, his blue eyes meeting the weary gaze of his superior. No words were spoken, none were needed. They both knew, were both aware that something wasn't right. And their thoughts were the same.

Please, God, let her be all right.

He was running on auto-pilot; the drive from the precinct to his partner's apartment barely registering. He vaguely recalled nearly side-swiping a taxi in his rush, before instinctively flipping on his siren.

His heart had firmly lodged itself in his throat somewhere around the fifth unanswered call to her phone and had yet to return to its rightful place in his chest. It twisted and clenched, pumping his blood with such ferocity he could hear it pounding through his ears, the sound deafening. He was oblivious though, his only thoughts on Olivia and the impending sense of dread forming in the pit of his stomach.

The feeling only intensified as he swerved into a vacant spot across the street from her building; his parking erratic at best. His feet hit the pavement, propelling his body from the vehicle when he'd barely turned the ignition off and claimed the keys with his right hand. He started across the mercifully empty street, determination in his eyes as they took a quick inventory of his surroundings. Nothing stuck him as out of the ordinary until his gaze landed on an all too familiar sedan.

His fingers curled around the handle of her car as he rounded to the driver's side door, unsure if finding it locked relieved him or only increased his worry. There was nothing of interest inside the mostly unused car, so he left it behind and broke into a brisk jog as he made his way to the front door of the six-story walkup Olivia resided in. Quickly producing the key she'd entrusted to his care, he pushed his way in, breaking into a run through the empty lobby and up the stairs.

The fear he'd been holding at bay came at him full force as he reached the fourth-floor landing; his police training all but abandoning him when he rounded the corner to her door. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt, the emotion almost paralyzing as he lifted a heavy hand to knock quickly. No answer.

"Liv? Olivia, it's me. Open the door," he finally managed to choke out, finding his voice. Still no answer.

The warning bells in his head that had been tinkering for hours were now bellowing full force and he swallowed hard. Reaching for the doorknob, he paused only to have the door open without any further prompting. If he hadn't been worried before, he sure as hell was out of his mind with it now. Olivia never left her door unlocked. Never.

Pulling his gun, he pushed his way into the quiet apartment; his eyes constantly on the move. He ducked into the kitchen to find it empty, before he moved on to the living room. The sight that met him there made his body go rigid, his heart to stop beating.

There wasn't a piece of furniture; a single possession that wasn't overturned. The couch was on its back, the coffee table upside down. The TV was on the floor, a hole in the screen that, he was sick to realize, was courtesy of a bullet. What made him sway unsteadily however, was the sickening smear of blood on the wall and across the wooden floor. Her blood.

Swallowing the bile that had made its presence known to the back of his throat, he reached for his cell phone, and with a shaking hand dialed the only number he could remember at the moment.

"Cap, it's me. You're gonna want to get down here. And bring CSU with you."

Unknown Location
August 7, 2006

She came to slowly; her head pounding and groggy. A groan tore past her lips and she panted heavily, her eyes opening just enough to take a peek at her surroundings.

It was dark; the hard floor beneath her her first clue that she definitely wasn't in her own bed. Despite the nearly pitch black, she was aware of the small space. There wasn't enough light for her to see just how diminutive the room was, but she could feel the walls closing in around her. The nauseating smell was the next thing she became aware of, that of dank earth, sewage and something akin to rotting meat. The scent flooded her senses, making her stomach scream in protest while provoking her impending headache into a full-blown migraine. She groaned again and allowed her head to fall back against the dirt floor.

A sudden sequence of images flashed through her mind, though none of them distinguishable and her eyes fluttered shut at the on slot of pain they caused. Despite the physical reaction, she struggled to remember where she was and how she'd come to be there, but her memory remained a blank slate. Her brow furrowed at this realization and she frowned.

She couldn't remember anything past that morning. A hazy memory of getting ready for work claimed its rightful place, though that was as far as she got. Why the hell couldn't she remember?

Irritation settled over her then, and her eyes reopened to the darkened room. With a pained grunt, she pushed herself into a sitting position, her forehead creasing at the effort. Ignoring the wave of dizziness, she tested each of her limbs, relieved to find nothing broken or otherwise injured. Instinctively her left hand went to her head, and she winced as her fingers combed over something wet and sticky. Blood. Although not an inordinate amount, it was her own and suddenly the headache, dizzy spells and memory loss had reason.

Refocusing, her gaze swept over her surroundings. From what she could tell, there wasn't anything else in the room with her, save for the dirty blanket she sat on. Even more perplexing was that there didn't appear to be a way in. Or out, for that matter.

The slight poke of panic introduced itself to her gut, though she quickly squelched it. She was a cop; trained to be ready for any situation that might arise and she wasn't about to abandon that knowledge now. At least not until she knew exactly what she was facing and how she was going to get herself out of it.

With a huff of determination she rose to her knees, giving herself a moment's pause before she lumbered to her feet. She swayed from the movement and reached out to steady herself using the wall behind her. In doing so her foot got caught up in the blanket and sent her back down. She landed on her behind with a loud thud, and began coughing at the cloud of dust she'd kicked up. Her head throbbed and she couldn't hold in the moan as the blinding light of pain raced through her.

Clenching her teeth, she pushed aside her aches and climbed to her feet again. This time she remained standing and managed a smile at the victory. Unconsciously her hand fell to her waist in search of her gun. She was more than surprised when her fingers closed over the cool metal, not expecting to still be armed.

Her hopes rose but quickly fell as she removed the weapon from its holster only to find it void of any ammunition. A pang of something she refused to acknowledge shot through her and she sighed. She wasn't used to being unarmed in what she perceived to be a dangerous situation and it wasn't a feeling she particularly enjoyed. Still, she didn't reholster the gun; deciding that if worst came to worst, she could use the butt of the gun to do some damage. It was better than nothing.

With the Glock in one hand and the other pressed against the wall, she felt her way around the room with unsteady steps. Her chest tightened when her hand came in contact with something steel; the contrast to the dirt wall startling. Blindly she ran her hands over it, searching for some indication she could escape when she brushed against the unmistakable shape of a doorknob.

Tightening her hold on the gun, she took a deep breath and tried her luck. The round object turned easily under the pressure and she cautiously pushed the door open only to find herself staring into a pair of unfamiliar eyes, red with anger and animosity.

"Hello, Olivia."

Shit.

To be continued...