Obsession
Disclaimer: As usual, they belong to Dick Wolf. I'm just borrowing them, I may return them . . . at some point. :) Ah hell, who am I kidding?! They're mine, mine I tell ya! MWAHAHAHA.
Oops, sorry, temporary moment of insanity.
Warnings: Femslash. Story will deal with sexual violence and it's aftermath in later chapters.
Chapter 16
The shrill sound of Elliot's cell phone awakens me from the fitful sleep I'd fallen into. The feel of another person next to me confuses me for a moment, then I remember crying in my partner's arms when we returned from the crime scene last night. I must have fallen asleep, because we're both still here on the couch and I'm still laying across Elliot's lap.
"Hello," Elliot's sleep deepened voice answers from above me.
I lay and listen to the one-sided conversation, trying to glean some information from what I'm hearing.
"We're on our way Cap," he says before closing the cell phone and placing his hand on my shoulder to gently shake me awake.
"I'm awake, Elliot."
Sitting up, I drag my hands through my hair and attempt to rub the last bit of fatigue from my eyes.
"They got a sketch from our witness."
Hope blooms in my heart and I look around, attempting to find a clock.
"It's just after 6 AM, Liv," he says, understanding what I'm looking for before I even speak.
We have that kind of relationship. I'm not sure anyone can really fully understand how close we are. Especially once we make it clear that we're not sleeping together. Elliot and I share a mutual love and understanding that makes us almost as close as two people can possibly be. Perhaps it's because we know each other's demons so intimately. I don't know what it is. All I know is that I could not survive without him.
Even Kathy had her doubts about the platonic nature of our relationship, especially at first. It took Elliot and I sitting down and finally telling her that I was gay before she stopped looking at me with suspicion. I still think she was jealous of our closeness. Elliot shared things with me that he never shared with his ex-wife and I'm pretty sure she still hates me for that. But can you really blame us? We see the worst of what the world has to offer together. How could you seriously want to burden someone who doesn't understand what we do with that kind of darkness? I couldn't.
Maybe that's why Casey and I have fallen so hard, so fast. She understands darkness and evil. It's her job to put them away once we catch them. I can share my demons with her, because she's already intimately familiar with them herself.
Some people carry that dark shadow over their soul, like us, but most don't and it's impossibly cruel to expose those who don't know what evil is to that darkness. That's why Elliot and Kathy's marriage didn't work out. He couldn't bring himself to share his shadows with her and I don't blame him for that.
"Thank you Elliot," I say, before leaning in to place a small kiss on his cheek.
"Anytime."
That's all we really needed to say. Sometimes there are no words needed. Our eyes convey all that needs to be said.
"I'm going to go freshen up," I say as I get up from the couch and head towards his bathroom.
"Hey, can you call the lab and see what they got off of our Jane Doe?"
He nods and I disappear into the small bathroom to attempt and make myself somewhat presentable. I can change at the station. I always keep extra clothes and a toiletry kit there in my locker. But until then, I should at least make sure my hair's not sticking in a million directions at once.
After doing what I could without toiletries, I leave the bathroom. Elliot is just closing his cell phone and from the smile decorating his face, I'd say we got something.
"She's getting careless Olivia," he says, approaching me.
"What about the blood?" Please don't let it be Casey's.
"DNA's not back yet, but the blood around the collar of the coat and suit matched Casey's type. The rest of it belongs to the vic." He moves into the restroom to clean up as we talk.
Relief floods my consciousness.
"Lab got some strange trace evidence off the coat though. Gypsum dust and paint chips," he says around the tooth brush currently crammed in his mouth.
"Gypsum dust? Isn't that in drywall?"
He nods.
"So what are we looking at? Maybe a construction site of some kind . . .," I say, thinking out loud.
"Could be. Let me change clothes and we'll go."
I continue to think about the trace evidence as he disappears into his bedroom and pushes the door shut. We're getting so close. I only hope the sketch can shed more light on the subject.
Less than hour later we walk into a squad room bustling with early morning activity. Cragen is standing with Fin and John, talking quietly.
"Olivia, Elliot. My office," he says, already moving in that direction.
As soon as I enter he hands me the sketch and I find myself staring at the sheet of paper in shock. The face looking back at me looks very familiar and my pulse quickens as the pieces of the puzzle start to click together.
"Elliot, who does that look like to you," I ask and hand him the sheet of paper.
He takes it, staring at it for a moment, before he looks back up at me in shock.
"Madeline Forbes. Holy shit."
I nod my head, unable to speak, as I think of all the times I've been so close to this woman and had no idea. Anger blooms violently at the thought.
"Let's not jump to conclusions people. A sketch is not enough to go after an ADA. We got anything from the lab yet," Cragen asks, looking first at Elliot, then me.
"Yeah, they got gypsum dust and paint chips off the clothes. Some of the blood matched Casey's type, but the rest came from the Jane Doe."
A knock on the door interrupts us and Munch sticks his head in.
"I called Branch. Forbes didn't show up for work this morning. . ."
I'm nearly blinded by rage at this point.
". . . Branch also said that she requested the transfer from Brooklyn Homicide to SVU."
The Captain sighs loudly and stuffs his hands in the pants pockets of his drab brown suit.
"Okay people. Let's start pulling her records," he pauses and looks to Munch, "you and Fin start with the DA's records."
Munch nods his head once and disappears through the door.
"Olivia, Elliot. Why don't you pull her financials, see if we can get a handle on where she may have gone."
We leave the small office and head out to start making calls and pulling computer records. It's all I can do to control my anger for Madeline Forbes. How could we have been so stupid? She was right there, under our noses the entire time and we had no idea. Forbes made us all look like fools and I think we're all feeling the sting of betrayal. God help her if she's hurt Casey, because nothing short of divine intervention will be able to stop me from killing her if she has.
After a couple of hours of staring at financials, I feel as if my head is going to explode. It's one of those headaches that starts behind the eyes and spreads out from there. I'm not sure if it's from stress or staring at a computer screen for two hours straight, but either way it's making it difficult to concentrate. I run my hands over my face, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes, willing the throbbing to subside.
"Liv, I think I got something," Elliot says from his desk.
My eyes pop open in excitement, the pain forgotten temporarily, as I get up and move around his desk. I lean over his shoulder, bracing myself on the back of his chair, as I squint and try to make out what he's pointing to on the screen.
"She inherited a loft in Tribeca last year when her parent's died," he says, tapping the tax records displayed on the screen with his finger.
My brain integrates the new information.
"Did you pull her credit card statements," I ask, holding my breath.
Elliot grins arrogantly and nods his head.
"Two down payments to a remodeling company a couple of months ago."
The final piece clicks into place and I realize that we've got her.
"The gypsum . . .," I start.
"We've got her," Elliot states as he gets up to grab the printed records of the printer.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
My tactical vest provides a comforting weight on my shoulders as I lean against the wall outside Forbes' loft, my gun drawn and pointed at the ground. I watch nervously, my breathing quick and shallow, as the small four man SWAT team moves silently into position around us.
The records Elliot found, in addition to the evidence from the lab and the sketch, were all we needed to get a warrant. Branch saw to it himself. I wonder if he's feeling somehow responsible for this whole thing. I think he was just as shocked as we were when the evidence was presented to him. Madeline fooled everyone.
Looking back, I try and rack my brain for any signs that she may have given to her true nature, but I can think of none. The inability to come up with any serves to compound the disgust I feel with myself even further.
Elliot's arm brushes mine as he leans against the wall beside me. A look passes between us, each of us silently willing the other to be careful, before he moves to the other side of the door. I glance at my wrist watch, it's just after nine in the morning.
I strain my ears, listening for any indication that someone may be inside, but hear nothing. This is an old building with thick walls.
Suddenly a yell comes from the apartment, that unmistakably sounds like Casey. I can't make out what she's saying, but she sounds upset. It takes every bit of control I possess not to break down the door and rush in like an idiot, gun blazing.
Elliot hears it as well and motions for the Tactical Unit to split up and position themselves, two on either side of the door. We look at each other briefly, timing our entrance.
A split second later, a muffled pop from inside the apartment rings out, and I immediately recognize the sound for what it is . . . a gunshot.
Chapter 17
"If I unlock the cuffs long enough for you to put these on, are you going to be a good girl Casey," Madeline asks, holding up the offered clothing.
I nod my head weakly, willing to comply, just to get some clothing.
"Good." She walks up to the bed and leans down to unlock the handcuffs that have kept my hands shackled above my head for over a day now.
My arms cramp violently as I pull them close to my body. Automatically I move to rub my wrists and a whimper of pain escapes my lips at the contact. Both are raw and oozing blood. In my struggles against the constraints, I had not noticed the pain. Now, looking at the damage, they throb painfully.
She throws the clothes to me and for the first time I notice that she has a gun pointed steadily at my head. I have no doubt that she'll pull the trigger, given the slightest motivation. Her face is a cold, emotionless mask. Numbly I pull the tee shirt she's given me over my head, supremely thankful for the covering it offers. I next pull the shorts on slowly, attempting to prolong my faux freedom for as long as possible. I have no desire to hurry back into the uncomfortable position I've been in for so long.
The morning sun streams through the high industrial windows in the loft and I mentally calculate how long I've been here. I'm fairly certain that it's Thursday morning, but I can't be sure.
"What time is it," I ask, noting the monotonous, empty tone of my voice.
"A little after eight, Thursday morning."
I nearly laugh out loud at the thought that immediately pops into my head. It's ridiculous really for me to be wondering why she's not at work. Old habits die hard I suppose.
She still has not given me any real insight into why she's chosen me to torment. What could she see in me? I'm nothing special. Pretty, but not a model; smart, but I won't be giving Einstein a run for his money anytime soon. I just really don't understand why and that's what's killing me. It's hard to rationalize senseless cruelty and if I can't rationalize something then I can't move past it.
"Why me Madeline," I ask quietly, managing to make her name sound like a curse word.
"Because I wanted you." The sincerity in her voice is perhaps the most unsettling part of that statement.
"But why do this? Why not just, oh I don't know, ask me out for dinner like a normal person?" My sarcasm is back in full swing and it makes me feel a little more human.
The slight waver in the gun is the only indication that my words have even affected her. I know I'm walking a fine line, but I don't care at this point. I will not let her touch me again. I'll die first.
"I don't have to justify my actions to you or anyone else Casey."
I hate the way my name sounds coming from her mouth. Somehow it makes me feel even dirtier than I already do.
"Why frame Stephen," I press on, constantly watching her for any opportunity to attack.
"I needed to get rid of the pack of babysitters you had and well . . . it was just fun."
Her face splits into a sickening smile.
Hatred flares and I wrap it around me like a cloak. It overwhelms the fear and revulsion I feel and I welcome it with open arms. If I can concentrate on it, then I won't have to deal with the other emotions floating around in my mind.
"You can't keep me here forever. Eventually someone," namely a certain detective, "will get suspicious and figure it out."
"Oh honey, I have no intention of keeping you here forever. In fact, I really have no intention of keeping you here very much longer at all," she threatens.
Fear makes an overwhelming comeback with her statement and I realize that I truly am on shakier ground than I thought. I back away from her slowly, desperate for any avenue of escape.
"Stop where you are or I'll shoot you now," she says, deadly serious.
Her words cause me to stop in my tracks.
"Get back on the bed," she motions towards the bare mattress with her gun.
I panic at the thought of being so helpless again and stand still, silently shaking my head. The click of the hammer as it's pulled back is loud in the otherwise silent apartment.
"Don't make me kill you, I really wasn't finished with you quite yet. I thought we could have a little more . . . fun . . . before hand."
Nausea rolls over me and I tremble at the thought of her touching me.
"I will not let you touch me again," I say loudly.
"You don't really have a choice."
She walks closer, smirking arrogantly and something inside me finally breaks. I crouch down and run at her, slamming my shoulder into her stomach and taking her down in a football tackle that the NFL would've been proud of. The gun flies from her grasp and clatters to the ground a few feet away. I pull my arm back and punch her with all the strength I possess, shattering her nose with my efforts. Grunting in pain, she whips her arm out and catches me with a punch that momentarily stuns me.
We both scramble for the gun at nearly the same time, each of us getting a hand on it. She uses her other hand to grab my raw wrist and squeeze and I let out an involuntary scream of pain. Using my pain as a distraction, she wrestles the gun closer to her body and tries to turn me over onto my back. I struggle against her, keeping my grip on the gun, fully aware that my life depends on it.
The sound of the gunshot makes both of us stop abruptly and stare at each other, wide-eyed and unsure of what happened. Blood, dark and viscous, begins to spread across Madeline's chest and she falls off of me onto her side. She continues to stare at me in shock and I scramble backwards from the injured woman, clutching the gun to my chest.
A loud crash echoes throughout the room as the door explodes inward and people pour through it, yelling. I stare solemnly at the dying woman mere feet away from me, not quite registering the commotion in the apartment.
The gun is pulled from my grasp and I find myself encircled in familiar arms.
"Olivia . . ."
"Shhh, it's okay sweetie. I've got you," she says and I swear it's the sweetest sound I've ever heard in my life.
We sit there entwined in each other's arms, completely unaware of our surroundings. Nothing exists to either of us, except this one moment in time. The one moment that I found myself back in Olivia's arms, somewhere I was not sure that I'd ever be again. If I could live in this moment, I would. Unfortunately, I know I can't and there are things that will have to be dealt with. But that's for later, right now all that matters is that its over . . .
Finis
Author's Note: For anyone that is interested, there is a sequel to this called "Barren". I will work on getting that story reposted as well. Thanks again to all the ones that actually liked this story enough to miss it when it was gone. :)