Present

Deke runs behind Caroline as she tries to escape into the bedroom and grabs a fistful of her hair. Her neck snaps backwards violently and for a brief moment Deke is fearful that he may have killed her.

"Let go of me you fucking weirdo!" Caroline screams after the initial shock wears off. She flails her arms and legs in a desperate attempt at loosening herself from Deke's grip, but he is too strong for her.

"Listen here you filthy little bitch," Deke retorts, drawing her in closer to him until they are touching back to chest, "you don't know what you're talking about."

Caroline is tempted to say something back but figures it wiser to remain silent; plus, the large forearm that Deke has wrapped around her neck is becoming tighter and tighter literally taking the words out of her mouth. In her nightmares, it is a hairy, lightly browned anaconda, squeezing her esophagus and making it harder for her to breathe. Her arms instinctively go up to the brown snake and try to pry it away from her neck- but it's to no avail. Soon she is seeing floaters, translucent black spots clouding her entire field of vision.

"Please," Caroline manages to squeak out. She can feel herself slowly losing consciousness. Her legs squirm and wriggle beneath her, then go weak. Her bladder follows and a stream of warm urine drips down her legs.

For a millisecond Deke tightens his grip, but in a rare moment of clarity he laxes his arm and a weakened Caroline is able to wriggle herself free. She slowly turns around. Little by little her vision returns to normal and her breathing becomes regular. Her eyes briefly scout around the near vicinity looking for something to pick up and throw, or a blunt object to hit Deke with. She spots a rolling pin, white and powdery from hours of rolling fondant, but is unsure that she will be able to reach it before Deke takes hold of her again.

Suddenly another thought comes to Caroline's mind, one that could change the whole dynamic of Deke's relationship with Max, or, even more importantly, Max's relationship with herself: If Deke was psychotic enough to attack her, was he also the culprit behind Han's attack?

"No... no... It can't be," Caroline stammers, backing up slowly.

"Shut up bitch," Deke growls sinisterly. He doesn't know for sure, but he thinks that Caroline is finally putting the pieces together. His top lip raises up, giving his face an animalistic quality as if he is snarling, "I told you that you don't know what you're talking about. And if you tell Max anything about this bullshit. I promise you, I will choke you in your sleep you dumb whore! Do you hear me!"

Caroline is stupefied, frozen dead in her tracks once again. When he begins to bark though, Caroline realizes how truly desperate of a situation she is in. This whole time, Deke has been losing his mind. And Max and herself had just been too blind to see it. Caroline had wanted so badly to believe that Deke's marriage to Max was the right thing. She had wanted to believe in love and second chances. And of a fate better than simply slaving at the diner and then coming home to an empty bed, that she had totally overlooked the signs that had been there all along.

Confronting him about attacking Han would have to be a job left for the police. That is, if she were ever able to make it to them. At the rate that things were going now, there was no guarantee that Deke wouldn't just kill her right here and right now. What do I do, she thought as his barks grew louder, drowning out the sounds of her own heartbeat and the wailing of the ambulances in the street, What in the hell do I do now?

2 Weeks Earlier

MAX

Max didn't smile anymore, or laugh like she used to. In her old, "broke" life, she had heard about women who literally broke down, allowed the world to use them up like a box of tissues and had nothing left of themselves but sagging breasts and prozac. Although she had been mildly ashamed of it, she had always thought of those women as weaker vessels and of the breakdowns as excuses. In that life she had thought of herself as a strong woman, who could roll with punches and give a few of her own. With a mother like hers, weakness hadn't really been an option. In this new life, however, this "destitute" life, that she herself was still getting used to, she had been reduced to one of those weaker vessels and so she no longer knew how to feel.

"Go ahead," she stated to a new patron at the diner, notepad in hand and pen poised to write. Within the past two months or so, she had perfected the art of minimalism. At least as it pertained to the job. So as a result, diner patrons no longer received the legendary Max Black sass that she was known for. Long nights that stretched into early mornings, double shifts, and the constant threat of poverty lurking in every corner had vacuumed the sass out of her. She couldn't even formulate a proper greeting to most customers, so to mention to this guy that his fiery red lumberjack beard made him look less like the hipster that he wanted to be and more like the Jonas Brothers groupie that he was, would have been impossible.

"Can I uh, have the cheese burger and curly fries," lumberjack said, his voice surprisingly kind for a man of his stature, "No make that onion rings. Will it be an extra charge?"

"No. Anything else?"

"Nope baby-doll that will be all," lumberjack retorted, his voice glazing over with the perviness that Max had come to accept harbored itself in all men.

Intrinsically, she shuddered; but she forced the corners of her mouth to tilt upwards in a semi-natural way. Then she headed back to the kitchen and sighed.

Since Han's hospitalization, the diner had been understaffed.

CAROLINE

Anyway you cut it, the dessert bar wasn't going to stay afloat much longer. Caroline had been moving numbers all morning (her calculator by her side), really pushing her Wharton degree and fancy internships for all they had been worth. Trying to see if she could make lemonade out of the lemons that these numbers were giving her. She hadn't had much luck. The numbers had told her that they couldn't afford any more sugar. Literally. They were spending more on running the damn business than they were recouping. And how in the hell do you even run a dessert bar if you can't afford more sugar? If a miracle didn't show up within the next 72 hours, the dessert bar was going to be the second serious business venture that she and her business partner slash bestfriend, Max Black, had ruined.

Caroline slammed her laptop shut and started rubbing her temples. It was time to start thinking about another plan B. Taking out a business loan was out of the question. Her own credit score had been shot to hell upon her father's arrest and Max... Caroline wasn't even sure if Max had a credit score. The little money that they had scourged up for the dessert bar had come from Sophie; and with all the money that Sophie was spending now for little Barbara's experimental aloepecia treatments, Caroline didn't think it proper to ask her for more money.

So what to do? Well, first off, Max would probably be fine now that she had moved in with Deke and all. After the wedding, Deke had surprised Max by getting rid of the dumpster and moving them into a real apartment. And he had some pretty good things going on for himself: between being a Garde Manger chef at a swanky boutique hotel in Midtown Manhattan as well as driving for Uber on his off days, he made enough to keep the two of them afloat. Even if their life vests had tiny holes in them- they would be ok for the next couple of months or so. So that really just left her with herself to deal with. And there wasn't much comfort in that.

Caroline had been living alone pretty much since Max's wedding. The first couple of weeks, when she had still been too rosy-eyed at having her own space to really think of much else, she had allowed Andy to sleep over. She really thought that things were going good between the two of them; and she considered the "sleep overs" to be sort of a practice for what their eventual lives would look like. They fell into a quietly, charming routine. She would wake up every morning and make a quick breakfast of toast, eggs, and coffee for the candy man. And they would engage in a brief quickie before hopping in the shower together. From there Andy would head off to his candy store and she would nap in between running personal errands. Around 4 she would order dinner or prepare something quick and easy and then when Andy made it back home they would, eat, have sex again and she would head off to the dessert bar to meet Max and prepare everything for the after hours rush. After work she would head home, cuddle up next to a sugary smelling Andy, sleep for a couple of hours and then the day would repeat.

Then Han was attacked. And everything was thrown into turmoil. Max had to take over full time at the diner. Initially that responsibility had fallen on Earl, but he hadn't been able to handle it. So Max volunteered. That just left Caroline, alone, at the dessert bar. Of course she had the staff, but she had been so used to Max being there with her. And now she had to be Mrs. Tough guy, in addition to doing the work behind the scenes as well. It was a lot to handle.

She started having to leave for work earlier in order to prepare by herself. She missed ordering dinner for Andy and their little quickies. She would be so worn out from work that she would often oversleep and miss the opportunity to make breakfast for him as well. Andy had been very understanding at first and tried to make Caroline feel as supported as possible. But as the weeks progressed and Han didn't wake up from his coma, Andy started to seek comfort elsewhere.

Enter Candy Mandy. The new, red haired, candy striped beauty queen. Fresh off the plane from Wisconsin. Andy had been smitten with her since the first time she stopped into the candy store with a girl friend. They had made small talk but nothing more than that. As Mandy's visits became more frequent though, and Andy's relationship with Caroline stalled, Andy found himself becoming quite comfortable around Mandy. So much so, that when he found out that she was looking for a part time job to cover her rent- he offered her one at the candy store. He completely cut things off with Caroline a couple of days after that.

But, still, what to do? Caroline squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus. All of her ideas seemed to exhaust themselves as soon as she had them. Loan? Nope. Bad credit. Promo party. Nope. Even with the additional customers, it wouldn't be enough to keep the bar opened pass a week or two. Ask her father for money? Nope. He was broke... But then, at the mention of her father's name, Caroline suddenly had an idea.

She opened her eyes slowly. Afraid that she may lose the idea if she rushed. She picked up her head and reopened her laptop. She knew what she had to do. If things went in her favor, then maybe she would be okay. But it was going to take some grit, and a little moral ambiguity. And if she wanted to do things right, she was going to have to reach out to an old friend.

Srgt. Olivia Benson

Sergeant Olivia Benson's cell phone began to ring just as she took a seat at one of the brown, Formica booths at the Williamsburg Diner. She retrieved the mobile device from the front pocket of her cream colored pantsuit, looked at the screen, placed the phone face down on the diner table, and picked up a menu.

"Hmm," she whispered, cozying her buttocks into the weathered chair, "What do I want to eat today?"

Normally, lunch for Sergeant Benson (familiarly called Sarge or Olivia) consisted of cold, break room coffee, and, on a good day, a bag of chips from the vending machine. But today she decided to treat herself to a normal, hot, lunch- and scope out potential leads for the Han Lee case as well.

As a sergeant, the majority of Olivia's duties consisted of indoor tasks: motivating officers, tracking data, training, and supervising. But every now and then there was a case that was so complicated, so disturbing and stupefying, that it was necessary for her to intervene. Han Lee had been one of those cases. Every lead that her detectives investigated seemed to go nowhere, every clue was a dead end. In a city of strangers in freaks, it seemed as if everyone and no one at all had a motive to attack Han Lee.

"You trying to off yourself already?"

Olivia was mildly startled by the intrusion but smiled when she realized that it was only Max Black, Han's busty waitress, coming to pour her a cup of coffee.

"How's business Max?" Olivia said, sitting down her menu.

"Business is business," Max replied, wiping the table where she had spilled some coffee, "I'm more concerned with the mental state of our officers, you know, if you're eating here."

Olivia smiled but didn't say anything else. She could see that Max was only trying to be sparky. She really wasn't. Her voice didn't have the same edge that it had the first time Olivia encountered Max at the station. That was right after Han had been attacked. And even though Max had been visibly upset, she had sassed and barked all of the detectives into submission and had them promising to lock away Han's attacker by the time she was done. Even Finn had been impressed, and a little intimidated, by her.

"So what can I get you?" Max asked. Her voice was totally flat now, like month old soda. She looked just as haggardly as she sounded.

"Burger basket. Hold the onions. And keep the coffee coming". Olivia handed the menu to Max with a smile. Max didn't respond or smile back. She simply scribbled something in her notepad and moved to the next table.

"Well, you can't beat the service," Olivia mumbled under her breath.

In the silence of the post-lunch rush, Olivia had time to sit and think. She opened the voice memos on her iPhone and began to speak out her observations:

The Williamsburg Diner. Workplace of Han Lee. Small place. Rough exterior, even rougher interior. Bombshell waitresses. Stoner clerk. Ukrainian chef. Finn said this place used to be ran and operated by the Russians. Still can't come up with a connection between that and Han's attack though. Maybe he owed them money? But why rape him?

Olivia began looking around, looking for cameras, looking for culprits, looking for signs, looking for... something. But she couldn't find anything that looked out of the ordinary. Williamsburg Diner was your standard, New York City diner. And, despite Han's small stature, he was your typical average joe. There was nothing special about him, to a fault.

Olivia had scoured Han's computer files and internet browser history looking for a clue that might help her to understand why someone may attack him as they did but she had found nothing dirtier than some girl on girl action. Never, in her thirty plus years as a detective with the Special Victims Unit, had she seen someone beaten as badly as Han Lee was. His skull had been bashed in, his teeth shattered like so many shards of glass, his ribs cracked and broken, and his leg... his leg had been smashed so badly when she looked at the photos. They hadn't been able to save it. It was a miracle, though, the doctor's said, that Han Lee was alive at all.

Olivia looked across the diner at Max, leaning against the counter, demonstrating to a younger girl how to work the cash register. She saw the sad, beaten look on Max's face. A look that she had recognized in so many of the victims that she worked with on a daily basis. And she remembered the bruised and dismembered photos of Han Lee. And as Olivia drank her first sip of scalding hot coffee she silently promised herself and Max that Han's attacker would be brought to justice.