Disclaimer: SVU is not mine. No profit is being made from this story. Review, please.

Kidney

Chapter Two

Interrogation

SVU Squad Room

January 17, 1:42 P.M.

"You took her, didn't you, Elliot?" Don accused venomously, leaning across the table to get in the detective's face. A fine mist of spittle hit Elliot's cheeks and forehead when he yelled.

"What? Who? Isabella Quintana? No! Captain, how could you say that?" Elliot cringed at the weepy sound in his voice. He was on the verge of a panic attack already. He had never seen his captain so angry, and he still wasn't really sure what he was being accused of. The only thing that made sense was the disappearance of his daughter's friend, and to think he was being blamed for that just about killed him. He would never hurt a child, and he couldn't believe anyone who knew him would suggest such a thing. He was sure Munch would have something to say about stepping into a Kafka novel, but Munch wasn't here. He had taken the afternoon off to see his phrenologist.

Don inched even closer, until his hot breath was on Elliot's face. In a voice of barely restrained fury, he said, "If you don't come clean with me now, Detective, IAB will be the least of your problems."

Elliot held his captain's gaze as long as he could, determined to defend himself in the face of this unwarranted attack, but such was the ferocity of Don's glare that he finally had to hang his head and lower his eyes. Satisfied that his subordinate was submitting now, Don took a step back.

"I-I didn't do anything to that child," Elliot stammered at his hands as he lifted them out of his lap and pressed them to the tabletop to keep them from shaking. "I don't understand why . . ."

"I'm not talking about the girl," the captain said in clipped tones.

Elliot's head snapped up, and he recognized the captain's posture well: sleeves rolled up like a man about to join a brawl, chest puffed out, arms folded, feet shoulder width apart, looming over him and looking down on him with that disdainful stare. He couldn't count the number of times he had consciously used the same body language to intimidate a suspect. He had never really understood until now just how effective it was.

"Th-then what are you talking about, Cap, because I really have no idea."

"Yes, you do, Elliot, I'm sure you do," Cragen said in a cordial tone that was even more unnerving than the shouting because Elliot knew it hid a barely restrained rage. "Just . . . think about it for a minute or two. It will all come back to you. I'm sure it will. Then we can make a deal, but I can't help you unless you remember."

Elliot wracked his brain, mentally filing through all of his cases, even the cold ones, even his colleagues' cold ones, trying figure out what his captain wanted him to remember. He came up empty. IQ was currently the only missing child case on their radar.

Swallowing hard, dreading the fallout, he looked up to his boss again and said, "Cap, I'm sorry, I don't . . ."

Olivia sat at her desk for nearly five minutes trying to decide what to do. Nothing in her experience in the SVU could have prepared her for what she had just witnessed. She never would have imagined that Cragen could get so angry.

Or that he could and would manhandle Elliot the way he had.

Or that Elliot would take it.

But then, she had seen the look in Elliot's soulful blue eyes in that fraction of a second before Cragen had shoved him into the interrogation room. He was startled, completely perplexed.

And hurt.

Everyone knew Elliot looked up to Cragen as sort of a mentor or an admired colleague, but only she knew from bits and pieces of conversation he had let slip over the years that he really looked up to Don as a father figure. She wasn't sure exactly when she had figured it out, but she knew Elliot's father had been, at the very least, emotionally abusive. Judging from the way he unleashed his fists when his temper got the best of him, the old man had probably knocked him around more than once, too. So, to have Don, the man who had taken the place of a loving, concerned father in Elliot's mind, shove him around the way he had must be absolutely devastating.

She had to do something.

She looked over at Chester Lake and snorted derisively to herself. He would be no help. He was just sitting there, reading a file and blithely slurping down his soup as if everything was business as usual. Of course, after Darius Parker's trial, maybe he thought this was business as usual in the SVU.

To hell with him.

First she needed to know what was going on. Only then could she figure out how to rescue her partner. She got up and crossed the room to the short hallway that led to interrogation and observation. She found Fin watching through the two-way mirror as Cragen worked Elliot like a perp. The very thought of it made her nauseous.

She watched the intense grilling for a moment, and her heart felt tight in her chest when she saw just how bewildered and frightened her partner was. His posture suggested he was bracing for a beating, and finally she had the last piece of the puzzle to his character. His dad had hit him, often, and this sudden attack from the captain had to feel like a complete betrayal. Elliot could be good at hiding his emotions, at least the softer ones, the ones men thought made them look weak, but she knew him well, and she could tell that he was fighting tears right now.

She watched the questioning a moment longer, but she couldn't glean enough from Cragen's questions to figure out what Elliot was suspected of, so finally, she had to ask Fin.

"So, what the hell's going on?" she tried to ask casually. After all, if the captain had wanted her involved, he would have called her over, too.

Fin explained the situation and at first all Olivia could do was blink in confusion. Then she tore her gaze from the scene in the other room to look at her fellow detective beside her behind the glass.

"Do you think he did it?" she asked.

The question obviously made Fin uncomfortable. "I don't . . . The thing is . . ." He rubbed his hand over his mouth, took a deep breath and said, "Look, Liv, he didn't have much time to do it before I got backbut he did have enough time. And there is some evidence that he was at the scene. I . . . I really don't know what to think."

Olivia's jaw dropped. She felt the sting of tears as they flooded her eyes and she went hot and then cold all over. Her throat closed up and it became hard to breathe. A slap in the face could not have stunned her or hurt her more than this betrayal of her partner.

"I can't believe you said that," she gasped in a husky voice and then sniffed.

A commotion from the interrogation room drew her attention back to the scene on the other side of the glass, and then she was running from the observation room to aid her partner.

"DO NOT . . . LIE . . . TO ME!"

Don surged forward so suddenly Elliot fell off his chair trying to back away.

The captain hovered over him, haranguing him, his face almost touching the side of Elliot's head as he yelled in his ear. "You did it! I know you did it! You can't deny it! Don't freaking lie to me! What are you, stupid? You can't fool me!"

The yelling, confusion, and fear became too much for him, and suddenly Elliot was ten years old again. His father had just slapped him out of his chair for complaining about the broccoli on his plate, and he knew what was coming next. From where he cowered on the floor, he could see his father's hands unbuckling his braided leather belt, the one that left the crisscross pattern on his skin. It hurt even worse than the buckle end of the black calfskin belt he had given his dad for Father's Day two years ago.

Elliot drew himself up into a tight ball, pressed his face against his knees and covered his head with his arms. This time he would take it like a man. He wouldn't try to run. He wouldn't even flinch, and he absolutely would not cry. That only made it worse.

He heard the whoosh of the leather flying through the air, and lost all resolve. Before it could strike him, he crawled under the table and desperately pleaded, "Please, Daddy, don't hit me!"

Olivia opened the door to the interrogation room so quickly it moved the air with a whoosh, and she heard her partner cry out from under the table, "Please, Daddy, don't hit me!"

"Captain!" she shouted.

For a moment, everything froze and the only sound in the room was Elliot sobbing quietly. Then Cragen opened his fist and let his hand fall to his side. He hadn't struck his detective, yet, but he had drawn back to swing. He almost couldn't believe what he had done. There was no doubt in his mind that Elliot was responsible for the heinous act; all the evidence pointed to him. Don sincerely wanted to help his detective out of the jam he was in, but he needed a confession before he could do anything. He knew violence and intimidation weren't the way to go, but the betrayal was still so painful, so raw, that Don almost couldn't help himself.

Elliot peeked out from under the table with a tearstained face. He seemed more confused than before, like he didn't even recognize where he was at first. It took him a few moments to put his brave façade back in place, but Olivia still saw the abject terror in his eyes. Finally, she spoke.

"You need to take a step back, Captain," she said softly.

Cragen did physically move back just a little, but he kept Elliot pinned with his stare.

"And you need to step out, Detective," he commanded gravely.

"I really don't think . . ." she began, but Don cut her off.

"You can leave this room on your own, or you can leave my precinct under guard," Cragen ground out. "The choice is yours, Detective."

Olivia didn't argue, but she didn't obey immediately either. Instead, she held her partner's gaze and waited for him to tell her what to do. She could see him weighing his options as he thought. She could also see the pain, shame, and fear that lurked behind his blue orbs. Finally, she saw Elliot's head tilt almost imperceptibly toward the door.

The message was subtle, but for her, he may as well have been shouting it. Do as he says.

She hiked her brows at him. Are you sure?

He drew his eyebrows together slightly, squinted the tiniest bit, and just barely nodded toward the door again. He was certain. Go. Get out of here now. You can't help me if he fires you. Go out there and figure out what is going on, then rescue me.

"Now, Detective Benson," Cragen growled.

She gave her partner the faintest of nods. Hang in there. I'll help you, I promise, no matter what.

"Yes, sir," she breathed, and she left the room shutting the door behind her.