Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.

Author's Note: Sorry about the confusion-something screwed up with my account and I had to resubmit the first chapter, so that's why some of you may have receivetd another alert about my story. Sadly, my reviews got deleted…care to fix that for me: I'm still trying to figure out the bestb way to separate the present day scenes from the ones that occur earlier…any assistance or suggestions are welcome. BTW...is anyone else confused as to why this story isn't showing up on the site? I'm assuming all my reviews have been courtesy of author alerts because every time I check the site my story isn't there! WTF?

Olivia trudged up the stairs to her apartment, robotically unlocking the door and stepping inside. She threw her purse down on the small table by the door and went into the living room, flopping down on the couch.

Picking up the remote, she turned on the TV out of habit and mechanically flipped through channels without seeing a thing that passed in front of her.

"Today marks day twenty-nine in the search for abducted Manhattan police officer Elliot Stabler…"

She froze with the remote gripped in her hand, squeezing so tight that her knuckles began to ache. The face of her best friend flashed on the screen again, just as it had almost every night on the 11:00 news, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She willed herself to change the channel, but instead remained frozen and listened to the words as they came from the announcer's mouth.

"He was taken from a warehouse on East 22nd Avenue on June 2nd during a routine beat stop with his partner," the woman continued, glancing down at her notes and back at the screen again. "The identity of his kidnappers remains withheld at this time, but Chief of Police Andrew Stoneman had this to say."

Olivia's eyes welled up as she continued to watch as the camera panned to an image of a man on the steps of the courthouse. He had a morose expression as he opened his mouth to speak:

"The entire department is in a state of grief," he said somberly. "Elliot is a friend to everyone. We are all doing whatever we can to bring him home."

The camera came back to the anchorwoman. "The NYPD has issued a statewide AMBER alert and continues to ask for any and all assistance to aid in their search.
Stabler is a member of the Manhattan Special Victims Unit, a division that investigates child abuse, elder abuse, and sexually-based offenses. He has been a member of the police department for 15 years." She looked sympathetically at the camera and then continued on with the other news.

Olivia switched off the television and hurled the remote across the room as tears came crashing out. She began to sob, wrapping her arms around her middle, and leaned back into the couch cushions.

Two Months Earlier

Cragen looked up when the doors opened. Olivia and Elliot came inside and went to their desk, taking off coats and scarves. He raised his eyebrows at them.

"Find anything?" he asked.

Olivia looked at him glumly. "Warner had over three dozen unidentified bodies of women between the ages of 19 and 35, and an even longer list of names from Missing Persons."

She shook her head. "It will take days to sift through everything and try to match…and that's if this woman is even in that age group. Dental records won't be in until late sometime Wednesday for us to know for sure."

The captain grimaced and looked to Elliot. "Can we at least try to find her assailant?"

Elliot raised his eyebrows hesitantly, knowing that his answer was not going to be well received. "Whoever did it got rid of all traces of semen and hair possible," he said carefully. His expression was astonished. "I'm talking everything. Warner went as deep as…"

He swallowed hard, fighting back a shudder. The captain raised his hand quickly to fend off the words with a look of disgust.

"She went over every possible area she could think to look," he amended after a minute. "Her attacker knew what he was doing."

The captain sighed deeply and rubbed a hand over his forehead. "That's wonderful," he muttered, looking up at the wall clock. It was 9:30. He sighed in frustration before turning his attention back to them. "Alright, well…just-just get started on the new reports," he said helplessly. "Hopefully the others will have something."

Jeering laughs boomed around him. It was early morning and they usually were asleep now.

Unfortunately, it appeared that one of them currently had insomnia.

The man had him pinned into the sand, pressing his face down hard so that the others wouldn't know what he was doing. He had been left on his stomach this time, his freshly retied hands jerking painfully behind him with every movement.

This one hadn't even bothered untying him from the dock like they usually did. He got right into the shallow water with his pants already down.

"You like it, huh?" the man grunted. "You like it rough…you're the kind of guy that likes it rough."

Elliot was so tense that each intrusion felt like he was being split in half. The man shoved deeper inside unexpectedly, making Elliot howl in agony, and began rocking himself on his knees. His throaty moans sounded like an animal as his hands pressed deep into Elliot's back.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the man whimpered with each thrust. "Thank you, Jesus!"

Whimpers rose in his throat as Elliot forced himself to close his eyes. The next thrust made him groan before he could help it, but he kept his eyes closed, searching desperately through his mind.

"You're just going to sit here all night until I do, aren't you?" Olivia said sarcastically, looking over at him. Her dark eyes gleamed with laughter. "You stubborn son of a bitch."

His chuckle made his chest rumble. "Yes, I am," he answered with a shit-eating grin.

She snickered and opened the door. Her smile reached her eyes when she turned back to close it before hurrying toward her building.

The sharp fiery burn brought him back to reality. The man gasped hard for breath, panting with satisfaction. Getting to his feet, he zipped his jeans and walked off without a word.

Elliot kept his face pressed into the ground. The cold air on his backside suggested that it was over, but he continued to keep his face down for fear of being wrong. His body shook hard.

Finally, he tentatively inched his head up and turned to look behind him. He was gone.

Sobs erupted quickly and he lowered his head again, resting his face sideways in the sand. His cheeks stung from the force of being shoved into the ground. Each sob that racked his frame made him moan in pain.

He felt his stomach rising and quickly moved his head as best he could. The vomit tumbled out in an instant, most of it not making it past the cloth. Every heave caused the fabric to brush the back of his throat and gag him even more.

He choked and gagged until it finally stopped; leaving him so weak that he couldn't even move himself away. Lying with his face in his own vomit, he sobbed until he saw black.

Fin rubbed his eyes and pushed away from the computer, his joints protesting the movement by popping loudly. Wincing, he rolled his neck.

The squad room was empty now. Olivia had been the last one to leave, departing about an hour ago.

Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was 12:30 am. He looked over at the desk next to his and got up.

Nothing across from Olivia's side of the desk had been touched. The coffee mug sat next to the lamp, half-full of coffee that was now congealing. The pen that had been yanked from his mouth as he got up quickly lay tossed haphazardly across the keyboard. The computer was on and the screensaver proclaiming "Hoo-rah" continued to scroll across the monitor.

Sighing softly, Fin reached out and gently flipped the page on the United States Marine Corp desk calendar. It was a seemingly insignificant gesture, but no one dared question it. Every day before the last one left, someone always made sure to change the date on his calendar so that it would be correct when he came home.

The hope that had formerly been bursting from every corner was barely visible. After twenty-nine days, the stoic wall that they had gradually built up around themselves was so fragile that no one even spoke his name now for fear of breaking it. As hard as they all tried, though, they were beginning to crack.

Olivia was the first to start crumbling. She had slowly withdrawn herself and was so lost in her grief that no one could reach her anymore. Stricken with guilt and fear, she became unrecognizable. Though she tried to hide it, they all knew that every day she went up into the crib and cried. Her other half was gone and she didn't know how to function.

Munch had become a different person. He came to work each day somber and quiet, barely speaking unless necessary. His usual quips and one-liners were no longer thrown out, and he didn't put as much effort into the job as he had before. He put in his hours and went home.

Captain Cragen became a mother hen. They had never seen him so anxious before. The incident had shaken him so badly that he had to make sure they all stayed in his sight. He constantly made sure that he knew exactly where each of them went during the day, and called them after work to make sure they arrived home.

Fin sighed deeply. He wasn't any better.

He didn't go home; every day when he left the squad, he drove up and down the interstate questioning every patrolman he saw about if anyone had seen Elliot. He had a portable radio set up on his kitchen table and listened all day for news. He couldn't sleep; every time he closed his eyes he saw his friend's face. He ate without tasting anything. He was simply functioning.

He went to his locker and removed his coat, shutting off the light as he slipped it on. Sighing heavily, he looked across the room once more at the desk as he opened the doors.

"Goodnight, Elliot," he said softly.

Two Months Earlier

Munch and Fin hadn't ended up with a single thing from the convenience store. The security camera was broken and all of the discarded film rolls that were thrown out every day had already been picked up by the trash truck. The photo technician couldn't seem to remember any details about the man who dropped off the film containing the pictures, and had forgotten to put his receipt on file when he left.

When Commissioner Geist arrived, they had nothing. The man was not happy, to say the least, and had spent almost a half-hour in Cragen's office. The detectives knew that their boss was getting his ass chewed, and knew that as soon as the commissioner left, they would get their asses chewed.

Sure enough, the minute he left, Cragen turned back to them with a glare that could have melted ice.

Before he could open his mouth to speak, the phone rang.

"Stabler," Elliot answered as he picked it up. He picked up a pen and scribbled quickly as he listened. "Mm-hmm…yep…got it. Will do. Thanks."

He put down the phone. "Homicide requests our presence at a crime scene," he said. "1435 West 45th." He looked at the captain hesitantly, seeing he still looked like he wanted to spit fire.

Cragen shook his head. "Go," he said. "All of you…whatever, just go." He shook his head again and went into his office.

Olivia raised her eyebrows at her partner as she stood up. They waited for Munch and Fin before walking out of the squad room.

"Remind me to thank whoever just made that call," Fin said under his breath.

Elliot snickered, making him grin.

The four detectives arrived at the scene fifteen minutes later. Olivia pulled her coat tighter around herself as she was unbuckling her seatbelt and stepped out of the sedan.

A uniformed officer glanced over at their approach with a questioning look.

"Elliot Stabler, Special Victims," he introduced as he walked up to him.

"Olivia Benson," she added, stepping beside him. She glanced around at the activity flourishing on the street corner. "What've we got?"

John stepped up beside CSU technician Jake Thomas and gazed down at the body. The man was lying next to a dumpster with his entire genital region exposed. His pants were nowhere in sight, as well as his undergarments.

A swirl of disgust passed through his stomach, but he ignored it. It wasn't often that they saw male victims.

It wasn't until he looked closer that he saw it.

"Cause of death appears to be a blow to the head," the officer said to Olivia. "Raped several times from behind, genitals mutilated." She grimaced.

"Any idea how many attackers?" Elliot asked, looking over where the CSU technicians had suddenly gathered around the body with Munch and Fin.

"I'd guess three to four," the officer said, shrugging. "But that's just out of my ass. I didn't read the CSU report; soon as I saw the guy I called you."

Olivia was now walking over to the body. Elliot's attention was peaked. "Thanks," he said, turning away.

She hopped up and down to warm herself as she stood a little ways from the group. Taking her hands from her pockets, she blew on them and rubbed, vainly attempted to get a little heat into the thawed fingers.

Elliot stepped up beside her, his eyes scanning the group curiously, as he peeled off his gloves. He absently handed them over to her as he was walking toward them.

Olivia smiled, taking the wool gloves and hurriedly slipping them over her frozen hands. Her partner had his hands shoved into his pockets. Now his hands were going to be cold, and she knew he wouldn't say one word about it.

"What's going on?" he asked, stepping up beside one of the technicians. He looked to Fin. "Did you find something?"

Fin looked back with raised eyebrows. "Feels to me like a little bit of déjà vu," he said wryly.

Elliot looked at him in confusion. When Fin jerked his eyes back toward the body, he did the same. It took him a minute to see it.

Raising his eyes back up, he shook his head and blew through his cheeks.

"What's so interesting over here?" Olivia asked, stepping up beside Elliot.

Her partner didn't respond. Instead, he stepped to the side a little to give her a view of the body. She looked down, and then back up in shock and disgust.

A bloody number "2" was carved into the flesh of the man's stomach.

Cragen turned out the light and pulled down the comforter, placing pillows down against the headboard. The clock on the wall read 1:30 am. He was exhausted and yet knew he wouldn't sleep.

After situating the pillows the way he wanted them, he stepped away from the bed and got down on his knees beside it.

For forty years, he had commanded countless numbers of police officers. Most were down-and-dirty-with-no-shame men and women who told vulgar jokes in the locker rooms and went out after work to get sloshed together. It was the way of life in law enforcement and frankly, was expected of everyone.

When he became head of the Special Victims Unit, he didn't see very many people who claimed religion. So it came as a bit of a shock to learn that one of his best detectives was in fact a practicing Catholic. He would see him saying a prayer quietly before he ate a meal in the station, or would go up in the crib and find him reading his Bible during a lull in activity. He discovered from Elliot's first partner that he carried a string of rosary beads with him during cases, and that whenever they had to visit a hospital to question a victim, he would offer to pray with the family if they were religious.

Don had never once questioned the detective about it during all the years he had worked under him, but he had seen evidence of his faith in hard times. It warmed his soul to see such an innate trust from a person who had seen the depths of Hell and beyond with each case.

He himself was never religious; his parents had taken him to church as a child, but he hadn't attended since his early 20's. But the events of the last month had changed everything. Every night, he was on his knees.

He begged God to let them find Elliot. He prayed that he would remain safe and that his fears would be calmed until they brought him home. He told Elliot how much he missed him and that he was sorry for all the times he had said things to him that he regretted. He asked for safety for the rest of the squad and prayed for patience as they continued to search.

His knees were wobbly as he stood up. Wiping the tears that had fallen down his face, Cragen slid into bed and laid his head down on the pillow, staring out the window at the stars as he waited for morning.