~ -"See Spot Run. Run. Run, Spot, Run."
-"Very good, Eli." Elliot ruffled his youngest son's curly blonde hair and flipped to the next page of the book.
-"It's getting late, El." Kathy was standing over the couch in a night dress and robe, wet hair clinging to her shoulders. She indicated to the TV, which had begun to play the theme music for the 11 o'clock news.
-"We're just going to finish the book, Kath. Remember what his teacher said: consistency. A story a night."
"No news yet on the whereabouts of kidnapped decorated NYPD detective—"
Kathy picked up the remote and turned off the TV. "Didn't I say turn it off? It's not good for him to hear all that, he's too young." ~
2 Days Later…
~ He was in the park, running, when his phone rang. It was still early enough in the morning that his sneakers were peppered with fresh dew drops and that, aside from the occasional teen catching a jog before class or the young mother pushing a stroller, he had the trails to himself. The sun was slowly rising between the trees and casting a pinkish glow in Elliot's features as his phone continued to ring and his caller id flashed a number he didn't recognize.
-"Stabler," he answered hesitantly.
…For the last two years since his retirement from NYPD, he'd existed in a sort of cream-thick haze forming a cocoon from which emerged this New Man image, a stay-at-home Dad who packed lunches and ran carpools and helped his youngest child read "Dick and Jane." Who jogged every morning in a track suit, drank Starbucks coffee and watched the culinary networks. Aside from those from telemarketers, he hadn't received a phone call from an unfamiliar number in over two years.
-"Stabler? It's Cassidy. You've gotta help me find her." ~
Another 2 Days Later…
~ Somewhere in the depths of her mind, Olivia heard screaming. It was as though, lying there on the floor, time had stopped. Any call to reason, to her fifteen years of experience as an NYPD detective, had slipped between the cracks of that splintered hardwood floor, leaving nothing for her to hold to, but pure sensory perception. She heard herself screaming as he pushed himself deeper inside her, thrusting up and dowm, up and down. No. No. No. No.
Her heart began to beat rapidly against her chest. Up and down. Up and down.
More screaming.
A lingering smell of burning flesh, not as bad as she'd expected it to be…the embers of that first cigarette make contact with the exposed flesh of her forearm and Lewis draws a heart—an initial sting, and then numbness. He holds the cigarette there at the point of the heart for what seems like hours, letting a pool of ashes puddle and drop one by one onto her thighs as the heart blisters over with thin white bubbles. Olivia bites down on the inside of her lip and tastes her own blood so fine and viscous compared to the blood she felt congealed and gluing her shoulders to the floor which, very slowly, grew hotter.
-It is said that tears and blood have similar chemical concentrations, so, when tasting both at once, it is impossible to tell the difference. Tears contain a chemical called leucine encephalin, a natural painkiller, to make you feel better.
-"What do you want?"
-"What every guy wants, and you're gonna give it to me."
She was back at Sealview. Harris and Lewis were taking turns. NO! NO! NO! NO! She didn't know if she was actually screaming or if it was all in her head.
And then there was her old partner, Elliot. Elliot who left her, had come back for her. He was going to kill this piece of shit—break his arms, his legs, his face—but suddenly, Lewis had a gun in Elliot's mouth. Elliot, who morphed into Brian, who morphed to Nick, who morphed to Fin. Amanda. Munch. Cragen. Alex. Casey. Barba…and back to Elliot again.
"No!" Olivia began to scream, she was sure of it this time. She curled herself into a tight ball, dug her fingernails into the floor, and just screamed.
-"Manhattan SVU to Portable. Call a bus!"
-"Liv! Olivia! Wake up for me, okay? It's Nick. I've got you and we're going to get you out of here…"
She felt a pair of arms grab her around the middle and then she felt herself struggling to get them off. A cool breeze whipped her matted hair across her face as the arms carried her into the sunlight and then, once again, into cold, confined nothingness.