A/N: So yeah, this story. Consider this a warning for everything, mostly because warnings are spoilers, and that's cheap. Just know that a lot of bad things happen, and if you're sensitive, you should probably give it a pass. This is a rather brutal horror story with very few redeeming qualities, but I did write it, so here it is. Standard disclaimers apply. Read at your own risk.

It was Thursday afternoon on a cold autumn day, sunlight shining thinly through the windows. The Sixteenth Precinct's stationhouse was as quiet as it ever got, conversations muted, phones barely ringing the halls of the third floor almost empty.

The strange peace was broken as the elevator doors opened and two detectives stepped out, in the midst of a furious argument, no less vicious for being conducted mostly under their breaths.

"You know what your problem is, Elliot?" Olivia was saying. "You're so goddamn overbearing. You can't even imagine that you might be wrong -"

"I can't imagine being wrong? Seems like you're projecting a bit there, Liv. Fact is, there's absolutely nothing to back up the ex-wife's claims, the timelines are ridiculous, and there's no physical evidence."

They were almost at the squad room, and she turned to glare at him. "The daughter's testimony - "

Elliot interrupted her. "Even her therapist thought she sounded coached. All of this is just her being used as a pawn in their divorce."

She scoffed. "You can't know that."

He threw his hands up. "You know what? I don't have time to deal with this right now. I'm about five minutes from being late to court. If you think you're so goddamn right, find something that'll convince a DA instead of hunches and air. In the meantime, I've got better things to do."

"Oh really? You're just going to leave it like that?"

But Elliot had already turned, striding down the hall. She glared after him for a moment before storming into the squad room, past Munch, who was hunched over the coffee machine.

"Fighting again, children?" He raised his eyebrows at her as she passed. "You realize that if you guys keep going on like this, Cragen's going to split the two of you up."

"I know," she snapped.

It was hardly news. Cragen had been threatening it more and more often these last couple weeks as she and Elliot had been increasingly at each others' throats. The worst part was she didn't know how to make it stop. They were far enough into their partnership that they rarely picked fights over cases anymore unless there was something underneath, but she had no idea what it might be. There was a tension between them all the time now, even when they were getting along, something in the air that made her look away whenever their eyes met.

She sat down at her desk and sighed, rubbing at her temples with her fingers. Sometimes she wondered if it might be better if they split up - it wasn't as though they were going for some kind of partnership record. Ten years was already two years longer than the average marriage - maybe there was something about time that just wore away at anything good until it was gone. A different partner was almost bound to be less stress.

Just the thought made her feel forlorn. She inadvertently glanced up at the door, as if already watching him walk away for the final time.

Unaware of her thoughts, Munch sidled over, leaning against her desk. "Anything I can do to help?"

She sighed. "No. Elliot was right about one thing. We've done all we can with that one. And I've got two people I wanted to interview for a different case. We're just going to have to see how it shakes out."

He shrugged before ambling back to his own desk. "Well, just say the word. And try to work things out with Elliot. If the government is monitoring discontent, you've made this place into a hotspot. God knows we don't need more surveillance."

She managed a grin, rolling her eyes pointedly before grabbing a folder and heading towards the elevators.

Halfway out the front door, a voice came from behind her, making her pause.

"Olivia Benson?"

She turned. The speaker was a man with short curly hair, touched with gray. He smiled and held out a hand. "Rob Jensen. I think we were introduced at Mather's retirement party a couple years back. Stabler and I are old friends."

His name sounded vaguely familiar, but she'd long since given up on memorizing all of Elliot's endless network of cop friends. Besides, being a friend of Elliot's was actually a mark against him right now. "Nice to see you again," she said, a little coldly. "If you're looking for Stabler, he's in court for the rest of today."

The man coughed a little. "Actually, I was looking for you. I was hoping to ask a favor. I've got a family friend - Sam Jones – his daughter Lindsay is about sixteen. She's been having trouble recently. Huge drop in her grades, lost a lot of weight , that sort of thing."

She nodded. "You think something might have happened to her?"

"To be honest, I have no idea. It might be nothing. But her dad's a single father and a little old school. He's a good guy but I don't know if she'd be totally comfortable opening up to him about something like that."

"And you want me to talk to her."

He looked at her hopefully. "If you could. Stabler's mentioned that kind of thing is your specialty."

"Stabler says a lot of things," she said dryly. She bit back a sigh, running through her schedule in her head. "I'd be happy to talk to her."

"I appreciate it." He handed her a folded sheet of paper. "Here's their address and phone number. They live a little out of the way. And if there's anything I can do for you in return –"

"I'll let you know." She glanced down at the paper. "It's actually not too far from where I'm doing a witness interview today. I could stop by. Say around four? "

"Sounds good to me. I'll give them a call and let them know you're coming. And thank you again."

She nodded before heading past him out the door.

The interviews went as well as could be expected, but ran long. It was closer to five when she finally reached the Jones's house, nestled alone at the end of a quiet street. There was no answer when she knocked on the door, which didn't surprise her in the least. No one was going to wait an hour for an interview they were already reluctant to do, which meant that she would have to drive all the way back later. A fitting end to a frustrating day.

She sighed, heading back towards her car, digging in her pockets for the sheet of paper. She would at least call and explain, maybe set up a more solid appointment for the next time. As she reached the car, there was the faint crunch of leaves from behind her and she turned, suddenly on edge.

She caught a half-second look at a man swinging something at her head before she was knocked to the ground, her forearms scraping on gravel. The world spun and her head ached, but she clung to consciousness, blinking blood from her eyes as she grabbed for her gun.

Above her, there was a chuckle. "None of that, I think."

The gun was kicked from her hands, spinning out onto the dirt. A second kick hit her ribs, knocking her onto her back as she gasped. She blinked blearily and looked up to see a man standing over her, a broad grin on his face, a baseball bat clenched in his hands. As she watched helplessly, he brought it down one more time, his eyes fixed on hers.

Then there was nothing.