Subjugated
Chapter 1: Prisoner
Disclaimer: I don't own either SVU or JAG. I am no where near that lucky.
A/N: I thought I'd try my hand at this particular crossover. I hope it is worth reading. I know I have a lot of stories but something like this just begs to be written. Also this story is kind of AU because Admiral Chegwidden is my head of JAG so that's who I used.
A/N: I'd like to thank Kay for all the help with the Italian and the time zone thing and for being a good sport about the whole tricking her into reading a JAG crossover thing. I love you kiddo.
The small seemingly unthreatening man paced around the chair in the middle of the dark room where his prisoner sat in chains. He was taking his time, a trained hunter observing his prey. He knew the questions he was going to ask and what the penalty would be for the wrong answer. He had known every card he would play before he even entered the room. He watched the man in the chair. He was stoic, staring straight ahead, unflinching as his captor circled him. They were always like this at first. They were strong but he knew how to make them break and they all broke. This man too would break. The short man took a seat across from the chair and spoke "What is your name?" The question was unnecessary. Intelligence already knew that much.
The prisoner was quiet; he would not give his captor the pleasure of even one answer from his lips. He closed his eyes only for a moment, attempting to conjure up a happier place for his mind to be while his body was trapped. He opened his eyes again and stared defiantly at the short man.
"It's not a hard question," the man spoke sweetly, trying to lull his captive into a false sense of security before he ripped the rug out from underneath him "What is your name?"
The question was met with silence once again. He wouldn't say a word. All that crap about name, rank and social security number was just that, crap. He wouldn't even give them that much. It was safer for her. If they didn't know who he was, they wouldn't be able to find her.
"You don't want to answer me do you?" the short man rose and moved towards the chair "That's okay," he smirked sadistically as he leaned over the man and pulled his head back. He made direct eye contact with the captive, daring him to doubt that he was telling the truth "We know who you are."
At this the prisoner flinched visibly. They knew his name, what else did they know? Did they… he hoped they didn't. He would die first.
The short man smiled widely and returned to his chair. He picked up a folder from the table that sat between the two chairs and flipped it open "Yes," he drawled "There are many things we know about you," he trailed off and pretended to concentrate on what it said, even though he had already memorized the information. He pulled out a picture and set it on the table so that it faced the prisoner "One thing we aren't sure of," he began as he tapped the picture with his finger "Is who she is."
The restrained man tensed significantly. He recognized the picture or rather he recognized the setting. The picture must have been taken as soon as they came into port. He was walking side by side with her, perhaps a little closer than would be socially acceptable given their relationship. His protective stance beside her was unmistakable and even a novice at reading human behavior could catch the way he was watching her out of the corner of his eye. He felt ill and fought to breathe normally. Had they captured her too or was she still out there, unaware that she was being watched.
He was sure that she knew by this point that he was missing. Whether she knew that he had been abducted, he couldn't be positive. He still said nothing however although he couldn't help the way he shifted nervously as far as his restraints would let him.
"I see I've hit a nerve," the interrogator leaned forward in his seat "It's obvious that this woman is important to you," he paused watching his detainee squirm before continuing "Just how valuable is her wellbeing to you?"
The prisoner looked at his lap. He couldn't let anything happen to her no matter what "Where is she?" he asked.
The interrogator leaned forward. He had been able to draw the first words from his prey "She's safe for now," he answered "How long she remains that way is up to you," he settled back in his chair "You know you didn't answer my question. How much does her wellbeing mean to you?"
The prisoner looked down again. He couldn't risk her safety. In a voice almost to quiet to hear, he let one word escape his lips "Everything."
"What was that?" the interrogator asked, grinning "I didn't hear you."
"Everything," he repeated, looking the interrogator in the eye.
"Good," the interrogator brought his hands together and flexed his fingers "Now let's try this again. What is your name?"
"I thought you knew my name," the prisoner responded, confused.
"Answer the question!" the interrogator demanded, pulling yet another picture from the folder and holding it in both hands "Or else," he ripped the picture in half.
The prisoner saw the picture. It was of her but it had been taken far more recently than just two days ago when they had come into port. She was in her hotel room, sitting on the bed with her knees hugged to her chest. She seemed to be sobbing, unaware that someone from outside had snapped a picture of her through the window. He got the meaning behind the interrogator's gesture immediately and he felt his heart jump into his throat as he answered "Elliot Stabler."
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She sat on the bed, curled into a ball, crying her eyes out. The last time she had looked at her watch it had been twelve hours since she had walked into his hotel room and found it empty. There had been blood spray on the wall opposite the bed and a lamp on the floor which had obviously been the intruder's method of subduing him.
The Naples police force had told her to sit in her hotel room and wait. While she may have been a detective with the NYPD, they didn't want her to interfere with their investigation. She didn't want to start an international turf war so she sat and waited for any news. She had called the captain and told him that there was no way that she was coming back without Elliot. He had agreed even though the case load back in Manhattan had grown exponentially in their absence.
She and Elliot had come to Naples on the trail of a suspect in three rather brutal homicides in Manhattan. The Naples police had enough trouble with their presence without having to go looking for one of them. Their perp was easy enough to catch but unfortunately he had already murdered to people in Naples and the courts of Italy got to dig their claws into him first.
She didn't care anymore about whether the bastard was tried in Italy or New York. Elliot had been kidnapped and there was no obvious motive. That weighed heavier on her mind than any jurisdiction battle that was best left to the attorney's anyway.
He could be hurt or worse. Why would someone take him? Their perp was already in custody so she had no idea where to even begin looking for suspects. She hoped that where ever he was he was alright but she wasn't so sure. There had been a lot of blood and he was most likely in need of medical attention.
Her phone rang, shaking her from her thoughts. She struggled to get control of her emotions. She cleared her throat and reached for the phone "Benson," she answered in a voice that still sounded like she had been crying.
"Detective Benson," she instantly recognized the voice of Inspector Eminenza. The man spoke perfect English but his accent was heavy. She had to admit she liked the way his voice sounded.
"Yes Inspector, did you find anything?" she felt a ray of hope for the first time since she had walked into that empty room.
"We don't have the DNA results back from Detective Stabler's room yet," the Inspector began "but we did find two different blood types."
She felt slightly better at hearing this news. It wouldn't lead them directly to Elliot but it meant that he might not have lost as much blood as she had originally thought "Not all the blood was his," she breathed.
"No," Eminenza agreed with her "There is something else," he continued.
"Yes?" she inquired.
"One of the hotel employees was able to give us a description of two men who left the hotel last night around the time we think that Detective Stabler was taken. He says he saw them put a large bundle into the back of their car and drive off."
She could swear her heart stopped. Could the employee have confused an unconscious man for a bundle? "Did the employee give you a description of the car?" she asked.
"Yes Detective," he answered, sounding slightly frustrated with her. His tone conveyed the deeper meaning clearly 'I know how to do my job'.
"Grazie," she told the inspector as she laid her head on the pillow. It didn't seem like they were getting anywhere and while the Naples police were twittling their thumbs, who knew what could be happening to her Elliot. Had she just thought of him as hers?
"You are welcome detective," the Inspector replied "I'll call you if there are any further developments."
Olivia nodded, not caring that the inspector couldn't see her "Okay bye," she hung up, not giving the Inspector time to say anything else.
She stared at the ceiling of her hotel room. Where was he? Was he even still alive? She was so worried about him. He was her best friend. She had always counted on him to be there for her and she had tried to be there for him even when he pushed her away but when he had needed her most she hadn't been there. Her room was right next to his so why hadn't she heard anything? A struggle should have made enough noise to send her rushing into his room with her gun drawn. How could she have let him down like this?
When she closed her eyes she could see the men breaking into Elliot's room and ambushing him in his sleep. The images her imagination conjured up frightened her as she watched the faceless assailants beat him with the lamp and their fist as they kicked him. She could hear him in her mind calling out for help. She knew he would call for her, even if he couldn't put her in harm's way ever he would have called out to her because she would have come. Or at least she hoped he would call out to her. She should have heard him if he called for her.
She needed to get out there and look for him. No matter what the Naples police said, she needed to find him. He was her partner and she needed to find him. She'd let him down. She owed him. She needed him, she needed to know that he was all right.
A noise from the window caught her attention and she sprang from the bed, grabbing her gun as she did so. She made her way to the window and looked out. She thought she saw a figure dressed in black sliding down the drain pipe but the figure was at the bottom of the pipe already and ran off quickly into the darkness.
She was about to turn away when she saw something on the ledge. She slid open the window easily and was about to reach for the object when she remembered that it was evidence. She walked over to her bag and rummaged through it until she found a pair of latex gloves. She slipped them on and returned to the window.
The ledge outside the window was at least three feet wide; Wide enough for man to kneel on. She looked for the thing that had caught her eye before. She picked it up and examined it carefully. It was a key. She wondered what it opened and was just about to call the Inspector back when she realized that this most likely had nothing to do with Elliot's case and she was just going to end up wasting important time.
She dropped the key in her pocket and closed the window. She would worry about it later, after they found Elliot. The key probably belonged to some creepy neighborhood Peeping Tom anyway. She grabbed her jacket and headed downstairs.
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The short man stepped out of the cell and stretched. He had enjoyed inflicting psychological torture on Elliot. He walked to the nearby couch and lay down. He was exhausted.
A man in a black hooded sweat shirt walked up to him "The little old Marine to much for you Giovanni?" he asked teasingly as he reached into the fridge that sat across from the couch and pulled out a beer.
"No," Giovanni protested "I'm just tired. It happens to people you know."
The man in black nudged Giovanni's feet until they fell off the couch giving him room to sit down. He popped open his beer "Well I will admit, I do have the better assignment."
Giovanni nodded in agreement as he rose to get his own beer "I hope you are managing to be dicrete," he told his friend.
"No problem," the man in black finished his beer and tossed the can in the trash. It bounced of the side and landed amidst other garbage that neither had bothered to pick up "You know," the man continued "This set up sucks."
Giovanni grew serious "Once we get the information out of our Marine in there, we can move out of this crappy warehouse," he too finished his beer and tossed the can at his friend "God knows I'll be glad to not have you as a roommate anymore Alexander."
Alexander stood up and tossed the can back at Giovanni, hitting him in the head "I feel the same way about you my friend," he walked to the door leading outside.
"Hey where are you going?" Giovanni called out after his friend.
"You just reminded me how much I want to get the information from that dumb ass in there," Alexander called back "I'm gonna go dig up those electrodes from the storage locker," he felt around in his pockets for a moment "Damn it."
"What's wrong?" Giovanni asked, not really caring.
"I lost the damn key," Alexander cursed.
"It's not all that important, we can just bust the thing open," Giovanni suggested.
Alexander continued to look vexed "I think I might have lost it on that window ledge."
Giovanni's mood changed to one of almost anger "You'd better go find it before someone else does then," he spat, pushing his friend out the door. The key could be traced to the warehouse and anyone who came to the warehouse would find them.
"I don't know why I'm so worried," Alexander muttered to himself. "It's not like that stupid bitch will put it together anyway."
"We can't take that chance," Giovanni reminded him.
Alexander nodded and left.
Giovanni turned back towards the cell at the back of the warehouse. Now would be as good a time as any to get the information out of that Marine.
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Olivia was having no luck on the streets. She was armed with a photo in one hand and "Italian for beginners" in the other. She was quickly realizing that being able to ask "Avete visto questo uomo?" if you didn't understand the lightning fast responses that people gave and she hadn't yet run into anyone who spoke English.
"Desiderate alcuna di questa cagna," a large man leaning against a building called out to her. She wasn't sure what he was saying but when she noticed that he was grabbing his crotch she quickly turned the nearest corner. When she reached a store front about two blocks away she flipped through the book out of curiosity to find out what he had said. She read in the limited light provided by the nearby street lamp and it took her a while to find all the words. When she put them together she wanted to throw up.
This wasn't doing her any good and she knew it. She turned back in the direction of her hotel. Maybe while she was out the Inspector had called with new information. She still showed the picture of Elliot to anyone who would stop for more than two seconds; she might not have been able to understand their responses but facial expressions were universal. No one appeared to recognize him what so ever.
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Alexander shimmied up the drain pipe and onto the ledge. He searched for the key but couldn't find it. At that point he noticed that the dust that had been collecting on the inner sill of the window had been brushed away. He realized that that woman must have opened the window and retrieved the key. He didn't see her in the room and hoped that she didn't have it with her as he slid the window open and climbed inside.
He saw her bag on the floor at the foot of the bed and moved towards it. Carefully, so as not to make it look as though someone had been there, he felt around in the bag for anything that would be the key. He found nothing. He did however decide to take one of her bras with him just because.
He and Giovanni had both agreed that they wouldn't have her yet and if things with the Marine went south they wouldn't have her at all but he could at least have a memento to remember her by.
He heard the sound of an electronic key card sliding into the lock of the door and quickly sprinted for the window. He made it out and closed the window behind him just before Olivia entered the room. He hid in the shadows and watched her carefully. It was then that he noticed that he had dropped the bra in his effort to sneak out unnoticed.
Olivia cursed the person who invented electronic key cards. She decided that they had a special place in hell somewhere between defense attorneys and TV evangelists. She sighed with relief when the door finally opened. Once inside she went to the phone to check to see if she had missed any messages, she hadn't.
She collapsed on the bed near tears. She'd tried to find him but she knew she could have done more. If only the stupid Inspector would let her help in the investigation. She could at least use the help of an interpreter. She flopped back onto the pillow and let the pent up fear and frustration escape her. She had been crying all of five minutes when the phone rang.
Once again she was forced to pretend that she hadn't just been crying as she reached for the receiver "Benson," she tried to speak normally but the emotion was evident.
"Olivia it's Don," whenever he introduced himself to her that way she knew that the call was gonna be personal not business. He was calling to check up on her, make sure she was okay. She knew that the Inspector's office was going to call him personally if there was any news about Elliot so his only reason for calling was to check up on her. She thanked him and cursed him loved him and hated him all at the same time.
"Yeah Cap," she refused to be personal. She had to keep her distance or she wouldn't be able to hold it together.
"How's the investigation going?" he asked, knowing full well that she had been shut out by the Inspector and his men but also knowing that she wouldn't give up and would be walking the streets at midnight if she had to, looking for Elliot.
"Umm… a hotel employee saw two men around the time Elliot was taken and he was able to give a description of their car," she provided facts that she knew that he was aware of. She would babble on and on as long as he didn't ask her the inevitable question.
The question came "How are you doing?" his voice turned to that of concerned parent instantly.
She was silent for a moment. She knew that if she started talking, she would break. She chose her words carefully and spoke quietly in an effort to stave off the inevitable collapse; maybe she could hold it together until the call ended "It's not easy," she said simply.
He heard her words but more importantly he heard her tone "They're gonna find him," he reassured her "These people didn't just find their badges in a cereal box."
She chuckled half heartedly but it soon turned into a sniffle "I wish I had… I didn't hear him…"
He wished he was there to pull her into a hug; she sounded like she needed it "Olivia, this isn't your fault," he said firmly.
"Thanks," she wished she could believe what he was telling her.
Cragen caught the exhaustion in her voice. He knew what kind of person she was; she most likely hadn't had anything to eat or drink since she had discovered that Elliot was gone "Did you eat today?" he asked, knowing the answer but wanting her to confirm it.
"No time," that was true. Between the crying, the trying to be included in the investigation and the constant worrying she hadn't had time to eat. It was more like she had totally forgotten and didn't care.
"Go get something to eat," he told her gently but firmly "No one ever helped anyone by dying of starvation or dehydration."
She glanced at her watch "It's 1:00AM; all the stores and stuff are probably already closed.
"What about room service?" Cragen asked. He knew he couldn't make sure that she was emotionally fine but he could at least get her to take care of herself physically.
"They stop at 11:00PM," she informed him. Then her gaze fell on a basket of crackers that was sitting on the desk. It had been there since she'd gotten to the hotel, she just hadn't given any thought to it until now "I've got crackers," she tried to sound triumphant as she crinkled the plastic wrapper near the phone so that Cragen could hear.
"That's good," Cragen listened to the sound of her munching crackers while he spoke to her. He wished that the crime rate in New York didn't prevent him from sending Munch and Fin to Naples, hell he wished he could go himself. This whole situation was killing all of them but it seemed to be taking its toll hardest on Olivia. He breathed a heavy sigh "I have to get back to work," he said regretfully "Try and get some sleep."
She sighed in response "Okay," she answered, not really sure all that she would be able to sleep. Not tonight, not ever again until they found Elliot.
"Bye Olivia," Cragen said kindly.
"Bye," she responded in a small voice as she gently laid the receiver back in the cradle.
Olivia rose from the bed and moved to get her night clothes from her bag when she stopped. One of her bras was on the floor. She was almost positive that she had made sure all her clothes were packed away neatly. Even the dirty ones were in a laundry bag that she had shoved inside her duffle bag. She picked up the bra and deciding that it got where it was by accident put it in the dirty clothes bag.
She retrieved a pair of sweats and a tank top from her bag as well as a clean pair of panties and went into the bathroom to change.
Outside, Alexander was very disappointed when he saw the bathroom door close behind her retreating form. He was also wondering what his next move should be. He had heard Olivia's side of the conversation and knew that the police new what he and Giovanni looked like. The Marine had become a liability. Then there was the fact that this woman most likely still had the key. She was a liability too.
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"Are you now or have you ever been a Marine Core sniper?" Giovanni asked as he once again paced around the chair where Elliot was restrained.
"I was," Elliot answered simply.
"Liar!" Giovanni accused and brought his hand hard across the back of Elliot's head.
Elliot winced at the pain that seared through his skull but quickly recovered "I'm not lying," he spoke up only to be slapped again "You claim to know so much about me? My service record in the Marines shows that I was discharged."
Giovanni took his seat once more and flipped through the papers in his folder "Well Mr. Stabler," he began as he pulled a piece of paper close enough to Elliot's face that he could read it "Must be the wrong Elliot Stabler who enlisted in the Marines in 1982 because the Elliot Stabler I'm looking for was never discharged."
Elliot stared at the paper in disbelief. Someone must have made a mistake. There was no other way to explain it. He had received his discharge papers. This was a mistake.
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Olivia finished changing and made her way back into the room. She fairly collapsed on the bed and pulled the covers tight around her. She tossed and turned, to consumed with worry to let sleep take its hold but after about an hour, exhaustion caught up with her and she drifted, reluctantly into a sleep filled with nightmares.
Alexander watched her motions slow as she drifted into unconsciousness. He wondered if she was a sound or light sleeper. He could be quite sneaky if possible but if she woke up… He put those thoughts out of his head and carefully slid the window open once more.
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It was 8:30PM; it had been an hour and a half since he had spoken to her. He knew she wasn't doing all right at all and it tore him up inside and then there was Elliot. By Morning Elliot would have been missing officially for twenty four hours. For all he had done to try and reassure Olivia, he didn't have the utmost confidence in the Naples police to find Elliot either.
Cragen wished that he could spare Munch and Fin but he just couldn't. It seemed that without Olivia and Elliot's presence, the criminals decided that it was open season. There was no sparing an SVU detective from any unit in any burrow.
Suddenly an idea dawned on him and he reached for his phone, dialing an old familiar number. He couldn't spare any of his people but maybe, just maybe…
"Chegwidden," the other man's voice was clear and oddly chipper.
Cragen smiled at the sound of his old friend's voice but now was not the time for reminiscing. He jumped right into his reason for calling "A. J. its Don. I need your help."
TBC
A/N: So that is chapter 1. I hope you all like it. What Olivia is saying on the street is "Have you seen this man?" and as for what the man said to her… I don't really want to repeat it. Use your imaginations. Please review and let me know if I should continue. I know I left at least one evil cliff hanger in there.