As of 6.16.19, this story is now completed pending a possible epilogue.

Story Notes

This story was my first creative writing attempt since grade school, and I had originally started this over a decade ago on the old SVUfiction site. When the site crashed, I abandoned it...and after 8 years (and prods from eotopia) I dusted it off and started working on it again. In re-reading this in preparation to re-post, I was tempted to change some of the bumpy things, but I (mostly) resisted the impulse. I kind of like that I was learning how to write as I went along. For new readers who aren't familiar with the story, if you can bear with me in the beginning, I'd ask that you get to at least Chapter 4 before you give up on me...

Also, please note that this story goes to very dark places, but I promise I fix things if you can hang in there with me... Their shared trauma becomes the catalyst for healing and love... This story is largely about the healing process that ultimately brings them together, and I really tried to address that journey with sensitivity and care...

At times, I specify music that I listened to while writing this. If anyone would like to hear the full playlist, I have one on YouTube under "Breaking Point". FFnet won't let me post links, but if you go to the resurrected SVUfic dot com, I have a link to it there.

I'm not sure that many people will find this here, but if you stumble across it, I hope you like the story and would welcome your feedback. Xoxo, Jessica

Chapter One

"What have we got Cap?" Olivia asked as he entered the room. She and Elliot had been elbow-deep in paperwork all day, and she was momentarily grateful for the distraction. As quickly as the thought entered her head she felt guilty, as she knew that her escape from desk duty was due to the existence of yet another victim. Elliot straightened in his chair, tossing his pen down on the papers in front of him.

"Rachel Peters, twenty-one years old," Cragen replied. "She was bussed to New York Presbyterian early this morning after she was found in an alley behind a convenience store. The owner called the medics. They were able to stabilize her, but she was unconscious until a couple of hours ago. A hospital social worker called it in: says the woman has multiple contusions at various stages of healing, and obvious signs of recent vaginal trauma."

"They do a rape kit?" Elliot asked.

"She's refusing, and this is where it gets interesting," he paused, shifting his gaze between the detectives, "she says she doesn't want to report it, but keeps asking to speak with the police."

Olivia furrowed her brow, "If not to report the rape, then why?"

"The social worker said she's not getting any answers, but said the woman became agitated enough to pull out her IV and try to leave – she became hysterical, repeating over and over again that she had to speak to the police. They gave her a mild sedative to calm her down. They want to keep her there for observation in case she has any internal bleeding."

"Head trauma?" Elliot suggested. "She could be delirious."

"Maybe, but I think you should see if you can get a statement."

Elliot and Olivia shared a quick glance, simultaneously reaching toward their respective jackets and heading toward the door.

Olivia slid into the passenger side as Elliot took his place behind the wheel. They rode in silence, not because of any overt tension, but because this is what they did now. Talking had the tendency to create tension, no matter what the subject matter. Making small talk only seemed to emphasize the myriad topics that were off limits. Thinking about these topics drew attention back to the emotions that burbled beneath and, as usual, any attempts to address the underlying issues only seemed to erupt in a torrent of sarcastic or vengeful remarks aimed at cloaking their own pain while imbuing it in the other.

Olivia shivered almost imperceptibly but Elliot noticed and adjusted the heater. The irony of the gesture was not lost on her – that they could remain attuned to each other's needs in so many ways despite the breakdown in verbal communication. Her lips curled into a wry smile, "Thanks," she said, hazarding a glance in his direction.

"Sure," he replied, his eyes meeting hers before returning to scan the road ahead.

She turned her head to the right to look out her own window, and they settled back into silence.

They made their way through the hospital corridors, flashing their badges at a few desks, although many of the personnel knew them on sight, nodding in acknowledgement and waving them on. As they neared Rachel Peters' room, a woman with short blonde hair and tired, blue eyes approached them from across the hallway.

"Detectives, my name is Kim Libby, the social worker assigned to Ms. Peters' case. Thank you for coming," she began. "I'm afraid I haven't been able to get any additional information from her, but she did calm considerably when I told her that you were on your way."

"Is she lucid?" Elliot asked.

"She is exhibiting signs of acute stress and traumatization, but as far as I could assess she appears to be oriented to person, place, and time."

"And the rape?" Olivia added.

"Her examination showed injuries that appear consistent with prolonged exposure to physical abuse, and I would not be surprised if this latest assault was indicative of a similar pattern of abuse over time. Although she was clearly demonstrating responses that indicated she has been exposed to a recent traumatic event, I got the sense that her fear and panic were related to something other than the rape itself."

Elliot nodded thoughtfully, "You think she knew her attacker?"

"Yes," she said simply. "I'm sorry I can't add much more insight than that."

"No, thank you for speaking with us," Olivia stated reassuringly. "We appreciate your time."

"Good luck detectives," she responded before turning to walk through the double doors at the end of the hall.

Elliot and Olivia approached Rachel's bedside. Rachel's eyes drifted open at the sound of their footsteps, evidently still calm from the sedative she had been given.

"Hi Rachel," Olivia began softly. "My name is Olivia Benson. I am a detective with the special victims unit, and this is my partner, Detective Stabler. I understand that you've been asking to speak with us."

Rachel looked between the two of them, glancing somewhat uneasily at Elliot before turning back to look at Olivia. Elliot picked up on her body language, and took a seat in a chair in the far corner of the room. He would let Olivia handle this interview.

"Can you tell me what happened?' Olivia asked.

Rachel's eyes welled up with tears and her chin started to quiver. "My boyfriend and I were at this club," she started. "He'd found out about this place through some chat room on the internet. I'd never been anywhere like this before." Her voice had dropped to a whisper. "The things they made these women do…" she trailed off, staring at a random point on Olivia's shirt with a haunted look in her eyes.

"Where was this, Rachel?" Olivia asked, using her name to try to bring her back from whatever she was re-witnessing.

"I, um, I don't know what it was called or where it was. My boyfriend, Mark, he said that he wanted to go to this club that hardly anybody knew about. He said that it was so special that the location was protected, and that this guy – Nikolai, I think – was going to have a car pick us up to take us there."

"Someone Mark met in the chat room?" Olivia clarified.

"Yeah," Rachel sniffed. "But one of the guys had a gun, and we didn't get to see where we were going, and I was so scared! Mark just laughed." Tears streamed down Rachel's face, and Olivia reached over to hand her a tissue.

"What happened when you got to the club?" Olivia asked.

"When we got there I thought it was just some strip club, but then after we sat down and I saw what they were doing…." She shook her head. "I mean, maybe they were paid to do this stuff, but some were begging the guys to stop."

Elliot's brow furrowed

Olivia was equally alarmed. "You think these women were being raped," she said as more of a statement than a question.

"I think so," Rachel sobbed.

"What happened next?" Olivia asked.

"Mark w-was," she hiccupped, "Mark was turned on by this stuff. He was trying to get me to…to force me to…" she trailed off. "And we had been there for a while, when I noticed this guy watching us. After a while he came up to Mark, and said something about a room in the back. I didn't hear everything he said over the music, but I heard him say that Mark wouldn't be disappointed – that he could make it worth his while." Rachel looked up at Olivia with a pained expression, and took in some shuddering breaths. Olivia waited patiently for her to continue. "I told Mark I wouldn't go back there, that I wanted to leave. He hit me and dragged me out of the booth. The man brought us to the back room, and I saw the bed and I just panicked." Rachel continued to speak through her sobs. "I tried to run, and Mark caught me, and threw me down. I was begging him to stop. The man just stood there watching. It was like the more I fought and begged, the more excited he became."

Elliot's fists clenched and Olivia did her best to mask her own response.

When Rachel spoke again she had regained some of her composure and her voice was quiet. "I was terrified that he was going to touch me but he never made a move. When Mark was finished, he left me on the bed and asked about his reward," she said disgustedly. "The man just smiled and told Mark the car would be waiting for him. Mark yanked me back through the club and out front. We got in the car again and they still didn't let us see where we were going. The drive felt like it took forever. When we finally stopped, we got out in front of this shack in the middle of nowhere. There were steps going down into a room in the basement." Rachel stopped and burst into tears again.

Olivia placed a hand on her back. "I'm so sorry Rachel," she said. "You're safe now, we're here to help you."

Rachel immediately lifted her head and became frantic, grabbing onto Olivia's arms. "No! Not me. You have to help her. Please, please help her!"

Olivia was confused, "Help who? Rachel, I don't understand. Who needs our help?"

"The little girl. Please, please, you have to help that little girl." Rachel collapsed forward onto Olivia's lap, continuing to sob, "Please, please help her."