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.

Five Weeks Earlier

Elliot walked into the squad room scowling and stalked over to his desk. Olivia looked at him questioningly, but he didn't even glance at her. He snatched a file from his inbox and flipped it over, scribbling furiously with his teeth clenched.

She looked over to Fin, who raised her eyebrows in surprise. Cragen, who had seen him arrive through the window to his office, came out into the doorway.

"Elliot?" he asked with a no-nonsense tone. "Is there a problem?"

He didn't skip a beat in his writing. "Nope," he replied coolly.

Cragen looked around, remembering that he had sent two out. "Where's John?"

"Who cares?" he answered, flipping the page without looking up.

Olivia's eyebrows shot up again and she automatically glanced over at the captain. He had tightened his jaw and folded his arms. She instinctively winced. Shit.

"Excuse me, Detective?" he asked icily, staring at him with a menacing expression.

Elliot heard the authoritative note in his boss' voice and huffed almost silently. He clenched his teeth and turned toward him.

"I don't know where Detective Munch is, Captain," he said almost forcibly. "We left separately."

There was obviously more to it than that and they all knew it. Olivia discreetly observed her partner biting the side of his cheek before daring a quick glance up to see the captain's reaction.

As if on cue, the doors opened again and John came inside. Don saw Elliot shoot him a look that could have frozen fire before quickly ducking his head back to his work.

Munch strode past Elliot's side of the desk without a glance in his direction. From the lack of conversation and the way they had all looked at him when he came in, he knew that they knew something was up.

He waited for Cragen to call them out, like he always did when someone was having a beef with someone else, but the captain said nothing. He simply pursed his lips thoughtfully and went inside his office.

Present

Fin pulled out his cell phone as he was turning off of the highway and dialed his partner's number. He listened to it ring, slowing once he approached his neighborhood.

He sighed in irritation after the twelfth ring and shook his head when there he finally heard the click. His headlights bathed the garage door as he pulled into the driveway, listening to the prerecorded answering machine message.

Beep.

"Hey," he said, shutting the ignition off. He trailed off, suddenly not able to remember why it was he was calling in the first place, and sighed. "Look…this isn't going to help anything. Avoiding it won't change this, man."

The frustration was evident in his voice and he sighed again.

"Listen." His voice softened. "I know you're torn up over what happened with you and Elliot…" He paused. "You can't do this. You can't go down a shame spiral now. We need you, John….he needs you." Anger began creeping into his throat and he fought it as hard as he could. "God damn it, this is his life we're dealing with! Don't you understand that? While you're at home hiding from it, he's out there-"

His voice broke and the sentence savagely broke off. He took a deep breath to get back his composure, angry with himself for losing it. He closed his eyes and sighed tiredly.

"Come back to the squad, John," he said, his voice soft with weariness. "Please….if we don't pull this together…" He choked up suddenly. "We can't give up on him…we can't. Until we find a body, he's still out there, and he's waiting for us. I know you…you're too good of a man to leave a friend. Don't let him down now. He needs you."

Suddenly overcome with exhaustion, Fin rubbed his eyes and sighed heavily. He hadn't intended to spill his guts, but hadn't been able to stop once he got started. "Alright, well…whenever you decide to come back…you've still got a partner. Goodnight, John."

He flipped the phone closed slowly and sighed again before opening the car door. His heart was heavy as he trudged toward his front steps.

John listened as his partner's voice faded away and the answering machine went silent. The horseshoe-sized lump in his throat made it difficult to draw a breath as he leaned back against the couch cushions.

Warm tears began sliding down his cheeks and the pain in his heart only made them fall faster as he continued to sit motionless in the darkness of his apartment.

Four and a Half Weeks Earlier

They were back to square one. Jason Evans was having a field day because he knew that they had nothing except for his word to find out where Jones was, and no other precincts had any information as of yet.

Whatever had happened between John and Elliot hadn't been resolved. The captain had eventually called them into his office and tried to get to the bottom of it, but to his surprise they were both resistant to talk about it.

Olivia and Fin hadn't been let in on the situation either. The two men only spoke when absolutely necessary and made a point to avoid each other whenever possible.

Four days after the incident, the squad received a request from Queens SVU for information about a case they had worked three months earlier. It had absolutely nothing to do with the latest case, and Cragen jumped on it immediately to give his detectives something else to focus on for the moment.

Don stared out of his office at the four of them and shook his head. Each desk had a box of files on the case between them, and each detective was flipping through a folder or writing silently. He didn't think he had ever seen them so quiet before.

The phone rang. He shook his head again and turned his attention to it.

"Cragen," he answered.

"Captain, it's Melinda Warner," she said. "I have some new information about your unidentified rapists."

"I'm all ears," he said, sitting back in his chair.

Melinda studied the lab printout in her hand with a furrowed brow as she spoke. "The DNA from the wood sliver matched to Ethan Jones," she began. "We managed to lift it from a tiny amount of semen that we were able to locate on the wood."

"Right," he confirmed.

"The lab techs up in Rochester were the ones who analyzed it," she continued. "Someone there just contacted me about twenty minutes ago…they missed something."

Don sat up straighter.

"Their initial attempt was a screening for excretory fluids, which they obviously found, and since they weren't able to lift anything else, they assumed it was all from the same source," she said. "But yesterday, they ran it through another system screening for body fluids and discovered saliva."

Cragen scrunched his face immediately. "Saliva?" he repeated. "On the…wood sliver?" He paused, unsure of whether or not to say what was on his mind. What the hell. "How is that possible?"

"I have my own theory on that, actually," she said. "But you should know the rest first."

"Sure," he agreed.

"The 2nd victim that you guys found….Homicide called you for that, correct?" she asked.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"Olivia mentioned one of the officers suggested that the victim had more than one attacker," she said. "Captain, the autopsy showed six different skin fragments under the victim's nails."

His eyes widened in shock. "So there were six attackers?"

"There were six attackers," she repeated. "And guess who one of them is."

He clenched his fists and swore. "Jones."

"Congratulations and thanks for playing," she said wryly.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A whistle pierced through the air.

"EJ!" someone called out.

Ethan Jones looked over from where he was sprawled on the dirty couch smoking a cigarette. Matt Lucas came over with a cordless phone in his hand. He sighed and took it.

"What?" he asked in irritation.

"Some pigs were down here asking about you," the voice said.

He sighed in boredom and flicked an ash on the floor. "Is that why you're calling me?" he asked. "Do you know how many pigs I dick with on a regular basis, Charlie? Don't waste my time."

"No, hey!" Charlie cried as he was about to hang up. "This is good."

Rolling his eyes, he flopped backward and sighed. "Please, enlighten me," he said sarcastically.

"Two uniforms came down here and took Evans down to the holding cell," he said. "I went down to the gym and just happened to "overhear" them." He grinned.

"And?" Jones snapped impatiently.

"Two more guys came down here, not uniforms," he said. "I'm guessing FBI, but I don't really know. They started asking Evans about you."

EJ sat up straight. "Did that prick say anything?" he growled.

"Naw," Charlie said. "You know he wouldn't do that to you, E."

"What kind of questions?" he asked.

"When he last talked to you, how he knew you," Charlie answered. "Boring shit, that's all."

Jones' eyes narrowed. "Is that right?" he asked. He paused. "So Evans didn't say anything…not even a word." His voice came out as a growl. "You know what will happen if you lie to me."

"No, I swear!" Charlie cried quickly. "He's cool, man. Honest. He didn't say a thing." He paused. "But, listen, man…that's not why I called. One of those cops, the ones who were questioning him? He said some really nasty shit about you."

Jones set his jaw. "Really."

"Yeah," he said. "Talking about Evans bein' your bitch, saying he begged to suck you off. Said you were scum and that he's an idiot not to give you up. Real cavalier asshole."

"You get his name?" Jones asked.

"Elliot," he replied. "Don't know if it's first or last, but the other cops all called him Elliot. And they mentioned he used to work with some guy named Jack Preston before transferring to Homicide."

Jones was silent for a minute. "Alright," he said finally. "Thanks, Charlie. Get off the phone before they make you clean the toilet with a toothbrush again."

"Fuck you," he said, and promptly hung up, just as the guard yelled that his time was up.

Setting the phone down, Jones angrily flicked his cigarette to the wood floor and squished it roughly under his boot.

"What did the rat want?" Lucas asked sarcastically. "Begging for bail money again?"

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "No," he said softly. He looked over at his friend with a hard expression. "He had something much more interesting to say this time."

Present

Elliot was startled out of a restless sleep when he heard muffled voices. He jumped reflexively and his muscles tightened as he lay rigid in anticipation.

The cotton that was in his throat was suddenly yanked away, making him gag and gasp in surprise. He swallowed hard instinctively.

The pillowcase was jerked off quickly and he slammed his eyes shut in pain at the blinding intrusion of light into his over sensitized eyes. He heard the familiar voices of his captors and his heart sank.

"Open your eyes, you bastard," someone said.

Picking up a fistful of sand, he threw it into Elliot's face, making him yelp and squeeze his eyes shut again. He heard laughter as his eyes welled up defensively against the pain of the sand.

Tears rolled down his cheeks from the stinging when he was finally able to venture his eyes open, and he blinked rapidly to try and clear them.

He heard the now-familiar sound of jeans being unzipped and bile rose in his throat.

"Come on, Jeff," someone was moaning. "Man, come on!"

"Hold on a minute!" the voice snapped again.

The man belonging to the voice leaned down and wrapped his hands around Elliot's throat, squeezing hard. He gasped and his eyes flew wide. The man got right into his face. His breath was stale and his growl was fierce.

"Keep your eyes open," he growled to him. "Or I'll cut them out."

He jerked his throat free and brandished a knife from his pocket, holding it up against Elliot's left eyelid. Elliot began to tremble hard, unable to stop the tears from sliding slowly down his face.

He nodded to a red-haired man, who got down on his knees in front of Elliot.

"Hey!" The man holding the knife slapped him roughly across the face, startling him. The pressure against his eye got worse. "Don't look at me, mother fucker! Look at HIM!"

His terrified gaze left the knife and landed on the man in front of him. The man smiled.

"Yeah, that's right," he said, grinning. "Look at me, asshole." He began crawling up the sand toward his face. "Don't you ever forget who's in control, fucker."

His erection was huge and painful-looking. Elliot whimpered and tried to turn his head away, yelling when two other men came to assist the third in holding him still.

The red-haired man laughed. "Open up his mouth, boys."

No, no, no, no…please Jesus, no! Elliot squirmed as hard as he ever had before, beginning to see white spots around his eyes. Don't let them…don't let them…don't let them…

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Olivia had been lying in bed staring at the clock for exactly four hours and twelve minutes when the thunderstorm began. The loud boom told her that it was right over the city. Her prediction was confirmed when the rain began pounding steadily against the bedroom window. Sighing, she pushed the covers back and stood to her feet.

She padded into the kitchen and sighed heavily as she reached into the cabinet for a glass. She groaned when she saw the bare shelf, forgetting that she had been putting off doing dishes for a long time, and stood on her tip toes to reach back inside.

Just as her fingers grazed one of the last glasses she had left, she caught sight of a small bottle of tequila and froze in her tracks. Her heart pounded in her ears as she found herself abandoning the glass and reaching for it unconsciously.

The dust on the label told how long it had been there. She didn't even remember when or why she had put it there.

Her mind began racing with all of the promises she had made herself over the course of her life. She was never going to be like her mother. She was never going to use alcohol to solve her problems. It wouldn't make anything go away.

Then her mind went to the day she had graduated from the police academy. She had stood beside the class of one hundred other graduates and sworn the officer's oath.

"I will act with regard for the welfare of others. I will faithfully obey the orders of my superiors and will be ready to confront danger in the line of duty"

The portion of the oath popped into her mind instantly. Tears burned her eyes and she blinked them back, determined not to fall apart.

"Olivia, meet Elliot Stabler. Elliot, this is Olivia Benson. You two are teaming up. Elliot, I trust you will show her the ropes around here."

He smiled at her and gave a small, friendly wink. "Yes, sir," he said to Cragen. "Nice to meet you, Olivia."

She smiled. "Likewise."

She shook her head as the tears won and began sliding down her face. "Fuck you, Jose Cuervo," she mumbled.

Pulling off the top, she lifted the bottle to her lips and chugged. Another boom of thunder sounded and the tears began coming faster until she was suddenly sobbing.

Is he safely inside right now? Are they keeping him warm? Do they know that he always felt nauseous when he watches the rain falling?

She hunched over against the counter, sobbing so hard that she couldn't breathe, and let the bottle fall from her hands. It smashed to the floor.

Four and a Half Weeks Earlier

The phone rang and Olivia reached for it.

"Benson," she said, continuing to fill out her portion of the report they were working on for Queens SVU.

"Hello," a man said uneasily. "Um…is there….may-may I speak to Detective Elliot please?"

She glanced up at her partner with a furrowed brow. "Do you mean Detective Stabler?" she asked.

His head came up when he heard his name and he looked at her questioningly. She held up one finger, indicating for him to wait a minute.

The man on the other end was tripping on his words nervously. "Um-I…" he said awkwardly. "I'm not sure, ma'am. I have something here from the Queens county police that says I need to contact a detective by the name of Elliot."

Olivia took pity on the caller, figuring by his voice that he was new. She knew when he said "Queens" that he was most likely looking for her partner.

"Detective Stabler's first name is Elliot," she said, receiving another puzzled look from across the desk. "That's probably who they mean. Here, hold on a minute."

"Thank you," the man said.

She handed the phone across the desk, smiling at the cautious look he was giving her.

"This is Detective Stabler," he answered.

"Um-hi," the man said. "I'm sorry about the confusion…um-they just told me to get in touch with a detective named Elliot…I assumed it was a last name. Sorry."

"That's alright," he said. "How can I help you?"

"I'm sorry… I'm Officer Earl Bryant," the man said. Elliot didn't recognize the name. "From the Queens county police department. Jack wanted me to get in touch with you."

His expression cleared and he grinned. This must be the famous rookie partner he had heard so much about. "Yes," he said. "So you're Jack's partner then?"

"Yes, sir," he replied somewhat guardedly.

Elliot chuckled. "I was his partner when I was there," he said. "Don't let him try to scare you. He's a big softie deep down."

Bryant chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. "Um, the reason I'm calling, sir…"

"Yes," Elliot said, sitting up straighter to pay attention better.

"We found the body of a woman this morning that looked to have an "S" carved into her back," he said.

He froze instantly. "Oh, God," he murmured. He would bet his savings that it wasn't an "S"…that it was a "5".

"And Jack said that your squad has been working a case with similar victims and that's why we should call you after we-"

"Where is it?" he interrupted softly.

"In a warehouse," Bryant said, sounding relieved not to have to explain any further. "1723 East 22nd Avenue."

"Alright," he answered heavily. "Thank you, Officer. We'll get right on it."

The phone disconnected. Matt Lucas grinned and tossed the cordless receiver to Jones. "Easy as pie," he said. "Tell him to go ahead."

Jones dialed another number and waited for it to be picked up. "Jeff," he said. "Go ahead. 1723 East 22nd Avenue."

"Got it," he confirmed. "Which one is he again?"

"He's got a female partner," he said. "That's all I know."

"No problem," Jeff said smugly, grinning. He nodded to the driver as the van pulled out into the street. "We'll be seeing you in about an hour."

Olivia looked at him quizzically when he hung up, sighing heavily. "What's up?"

He looked at her and shook his head gently. "Queens PD found victim number five."

Her eyes widened in horror as he got up to go relay the news to the captain.

Present

Don jumped out of sleep when the phone rang. He blearily rubbed his eyes and reached for it.

"Hello," he said groggily, glancing at the clock.

After a minute, he sat up so fast that he nearly fell off the bed. His heart leaped into his mouth and he felt like he was going to puke.

"Oh, Jesus," he whispered, closing his eyes. "Jesus."

His hand began to shake as the officer relayed the rest of the information. When he finished, Don hung up without a word and sat still. Tears made their way out before he knew it.

Shakily, he dialed another number.

Olivia lifted her face off of the pillow and turned toward the phone in irritation. It seemed like she had just gotten to sleep.

"Hello," she said.

"Olivia."

The broken voice of the captain made her heart race and she instantly sat up. "What happened?" she asked hesitantly.

He gulped. "Brook-Brooklyn Homicide just called," he said shakily. "They found a body next to the subway line about ten minutes ago." He sobbed suddenly, surprising her. "A male…with the number "6" carved in his chest."